


Modern Gods for Modern Problems

by Uncannycory



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ableism, Ableist Language, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Drunk Driving, Attempted beheading, Autistic Dirk Strider, Child Abuse, Concussions, Epilepsy, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Not Really Character Death, POV Dirk Strider, POV Second Person, Physical Abuse, Starvation, Surveillance, Verbal Abuse, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:16:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 38,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27210319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uncannycory/pseuds/Uncannycory
Summary: You glanced at Bro still chatting outside the window and a quote from a game you watched him play flitted through your head. What was it?Pick a God and pray?Well, you didn't really believe in Gods but maybe it couldn't hurt.Your name is Dirk Strider, and you are nine years old when you first pray to a God you don’t know for help. Because it’s Dave, he’s really too young to die. You’re surprised when your prayer is answered by a blustering Child God in blue.It never happens again.Until it does. Again. And again.Entry for the DirkJohn Big Bang 2020.
Relationships: John Egbert/Dirk Strider, Mituna Captor/Dirk Strider
Comments: 33
Kudos: 87
Collections: DirkJohn Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

It was easy to forget sometimes that Bro was a human being and not a monster made for you and Dave specifically. Like it was easy to think hey, maybe I'm actually in hell, but instead of having to roll a rock up the hill forever or being bound to a burning wheel or some shit it was just life with Bro. 

But he was human. And sometimes he showed that unexpected human part of himself and it was… weird.

Like he had a job. Like of course he had a job! But… you hadn't thought about it. You knew he had money he didn't really share, but you guessed it was probably from the numerous gross porn sites he ran. But no, apparently the mother fucker had a job, a quite lucrative one at that as some sort of remote IT consultant. And apparently, that night, he was invited to some big corporate party. You gathered that the friendly invite wasn't so much a suggestion though, or he probably would have bailed. He was more of the party of one type in your limited experience.

And weirder still he told you about it. Told you about it and when he came back and you hadn't started changing yourself and Dave, told you that you were _going so get a fucking move on_. So you did. Finding Dave and dragging him to your shared closet to find the nicest and cleanest clothes you had. He fussed like six year olds fussed, but eventually quieted when he realized something weird was happening that had to do with Bro. You combed his hair and brushed his teeth and cleaned his shades before working on yourself. When you finished yourself you came back to him diligently working on his shoes and you gave him a nervous smile and a pat on the head. Lil' Man was def gettin' somewhere with those laces. 

In less than fifteen minutes you, a nine year old, had readied you both. You went and nervously sat with Dave on the futon, hoping that you were quick enough. When Bro came out in a neat button up and slacks you held your breath, he gave you a once over and a short nod. You sighed in relief, you were good.

You followed Bro out to his shitty white truck, carrying the booster seat Dave needed but Bro refused to keep in there. You were waiting for the other shoe to drop, something was up. Something was _wrong_. Bro got in while you put in the booster seat and helped Dave up into it, crawling over to ride bitch in the middle. Bro tossed his jacket, as well as one for you and Dave on your lap. You were surprised but didn't say a word.

It was a long trip, though a much nicer one then you were used to with him. He turned on the ac, something he never did when either of you were with him. He rathered you two stew in your own misery and sweat. And then he turned on the radio, something he did _sometimes_ with you or Dave in the truck, but only when he was in an exceptionally good mood. He rathered you both wind yourself up with anxiety until the air could crack with the tension. Then the weirdest part was about halfway into the trip when Dave started getting fussy with hunger, instead of telling you to deal with him he reached into the jacket on your lap and… pulled out an apple. You hadn't realized you had frozen up until he dropped it in your hands and you slowly began to let your guard down again. He nodded toward the glove compartment and you had to scramble around the stick shift to get into it and pull out the pocket knife in there. You carefully cut the apple into eighths, giving most of it to Dave one at a time and saving only a couple for yourself. Timidly, you offered one to Bro. He took it to your surprise. Honestly, you were kind of done with the surprises. Your nine year old heart couldn't take much more of it.

It took about an hour to get to the coastline and another forty five minutes until you reached your destination, a grand looking resort on the beach. Already you could see the packed parking lot and the packed beach, it was a party. Bro pulled up to the entrance, getting out and motioning you to do the same. You did as told, unbuckling yourself and Dave quickly as Bro scooped up all the jackets. The valet drove off in the truck and something heavy settled in your chest. This was it. Whatever happened would happen here.

A man stopped your little group at the door, only letting you in when Bro mumbled _Strider_ and then all of a sudden the man was more than eager to step aside. You then watched Bro hand off your jackets to the lady at the coatroom. He handed you the ticket and told you not to lose it as she cooed over how cute Dave was. Dave, for all his chattiness with you at home, hid behind your legs shyly.

Then you finally got to step outside.

It was gorgeous. You were on a large patio, colorful cloth canopies shielding you from the late afternoon sun. In the distance waves crashed on a pristine beach, children playing as adults watched from chairs set under large umbrellas. And there was _food._ So much food and kids and adults alike were just grabbing plates and piling them high. That would be yours and Dave's first stop. If Bro let you go anyway.

He had motioned for you to follow so obediently you did, Dave following behind you like a nervous puppy. Bro didn't slow for either of you, so you took one of Dave's small hands in yours and kept an eye on the back of Bro's head as you weaved through the crowd. You eventually came to stop at a circle of men who immediately opened to make space for the addition of you all.

"Strider! Glad to see you could make it!" An older man stepped forward and clapped Bro on the shoulder. You were glad you were still wearing your shades, it was the only thing that hid the flinch.

"A course." Bro said back evenly, "Wouldn'ta missed it for the world."

He lied so easily. You could see the tension hidden under the careful facade of relaxation.

"And these must be your kids." He turned to you and you nearly stepped back in panic, Bro's hand on your shoulder the only thing stopping you. He moved you, and thus Dave, around in front of him. 

"Yup. Dirk, Dave, say hi to Mr. Egbert." Bro was staring forward but you could see his eyes on you from where you stood under his glasses.

"Hi." You offered shyly, gently nudging Dave. He gave a timid wave.

"What polite kids Mr. Strider, you must be a very good father. How's the homeschooling going?" The attention was back to Bro and you could feel Dave relax against you almost immediately. You had to stop yourself from barking a pained laugh. Of course you knew Bro was your dad, even if it did sound strange and wrong to you. But a good one?

"Alright. Dirk's a smart one, Dave's in real school though 'cause he ain't all messed up like Dirk." You thought you were starting to get it. He was here to prove a point, make a story real. He wasn't an abusive shitbag guardian who worked remotely so he could spend his free time making puppet snuff porn and beat his kids. He was a Good Father, working remotely to homeschool his broken kid in absence of another parent. Look, here are the kids. They're real. Look at how polite and well adjusted they are.

You tune back into the conversation when Mr. Egbert motioned to the beach, saying something about that being where all the kids were playing. 

"Y'all heard the man, git." He looked down at you and you nodded, your job was complete. You grabbed Dave's hand again and dragged him back to where you saw the tables of food.

You piled two plates high with whatever you could get your hands on, only stopping to take consideration of what you were grabbing when Dave would point at something in particular. Food. Free food. You led Dave to a reclining chair farther up the beach, a plate in each hand. Dave followed after you with a can of Crush and a bottle of apple juice. It was the fancy kind, in the little round glass bottles. He was thrilled.

And then you both ate. You ate until you were full, then you ate until you were overfull. Then you ate until you were almost sick. You ate foods you'd probably never have a chance to try again, little shrimps on sticks, vegetables you didn't even know the names of. Neither of you were especially picky and when the plates were cleared and Dave put his head on your lap all sleepy, you finally bowed your head and tried to hide the tears that came.

It was good. It was so good. And you didn't even _touch_ the chocolate fountain and the little desserts yet, you were saving that until after you were a little less nauseous from all the food you just ate.

You let Dave nap for a while, watching kids play on the beach and lounge in the sand in turns. When Dave woke up could you go play? Could you both pretend to be normal just for one evening? A waiter came by and picked up your plates and empty drinks and you murmured a thank you and you had to stop yourself from jerking back when he ruffled your hair.

When Dave finally woke up he wanted to explore, so you let him drag you down to the water's edge. He kicked his shoes off so you took to carrying them as he ran through the water, turning back to grin at you (and make sure you were still there) every so often. He even ended up playing with some kids his age, and you let him get dragged away from you by a little blind girl and her dog, giving him an encouraging nod when he looked back to you for assurance.

You kept yourself to the edge, nodding to a couple kids your age when they tried to chat with you but moving on to follow the roving band of six and seven year olds. Eventually they all collapsed around a tide pool and you looked around, finding a spot to sit on by a little altar for a God you didn't know. You settled yourself on the stone bench, checking to see Dave between the blind girl and a blonde girl who could have passed for his sister. You checked to make sure you weren't too far away from the party, but you were still fairly close to the patio so you let yourself relax for the moment.

You liked the beach. Bro hadn't always been like... _that_ , and one of the clearest memories of the Bro before _Bro_ was at a beach. One much different than this but…

You had to have been younger than Dave. Bro had started changing before Dave, but got significantly worse after him, so yah. Younger. But he would take you to the public beach in the evenings sometimes, and you'd walk along the pebbly shore with him until you were too tired to stay on your feet. Then he'd carry you, your head resting on his shoulder as he walked you back to the truck. You'd look out at the ocean and it felt lonely, but in the way that you were both alone together.

It was weird. You can't remember a time where he'd ever done anything like that with Dave. Hell, you don't even think you'd ever even seen him carry him. It had been one road trip to Washington and when That Lady handed Dave to Bro, he had immediately turned and gave him to you. You were only six, but you remember looking at tiny, fussy Dave and his red eyes and thinking that this must be what falling in love felt like. Things got worse after that, but you don't think that feeling changed.

Dave was being handed a tiny crab from the tidepool, he squawked when it pinched him and you laughed under your breath. Yah. Love.

You turned around to face the little monument behind you, trying to shake those memories from your thoughts. Happy memories like those made you feel too sad. You hoped in another universe there was a Dirk and a Dave that got to keep that Bro, but that Dirk wasn't you and that Dave wasn't Dave so there wasn't a point thinking too hard about it. You focus on the engravings on the rock instead.

There was a curvy wind symbol at the top, underneath it the words God of the Wind and Storm. You didn't know much about the Gods and Goddesses. You knew Bro didn't like them. You knew some were newer than others. You think this was one of the newer Gods. 

On the bottom, smaller than the rest of it was something else.

_In memory of John Egbert 1999-2001_

Egbert huh? Like that guy Bro introduced you too. And the kid was born the same year as Dave. Sad.

Before you could reflect on it though you heard an adult calling behind you and in the corner of your vision the kids at the tidepool began to break up, running back up towards the patio. Dave was looking around for you, so you raised a hand and got up. You met him halfway before you turned to lead him back to the patio. It was time for the chocolate fountain.

The rest of the evening went pretty smoothly. The dessert table was pretty picked over by the time you both got there but you managed to fill a plate to share anyway. You spent at least a half hour skewering different fruits and sweets onto sticks, poking them under the chocolate fountain and handing them to Dave. 

After that Dave found some of the kids he had been playing with and you sat at a fire pit with them, watching them babble away. It was getting late, a chilly breeze coming from offshore and cutting through your thin clothes. You shifted closer to the fire.

Eventually the kids had to leave, responsible parents lamenting to each other about missed bed times. It was getting late and Dave was getting cranky, so you pulled him onto your lap and asked him to tell you about his new friends. He did so eagerly, curling up against your chest for warmth and nodding off as he talked.

Bro had still yet to appear.

You don't know how long you sat there, staring at the fire and the dark ocean in turns. Dave eventually had fallen asleep with his face in your shirt. Despite how comforting that normally was though, your anxiety began to ratchet up. Around you, the party shifted from a more family friendly vibe to more of a club vibe. The only person who seemed to realize there were still kids there was the waiter who kept coming by to add more fuel to the fire long after all the other pits had burned down.

It had to have been after midnight when Bro finally made an appearance. The man he had introduced you to was gone, but he was surrounded by a couple other men and women who seemed to hang onto his every word. He looked you over, your body tense enough that Dave stirred. He jerked his head and you adjusted Dave a bit before standing up. Really, Dave was too big for this. Or if he wasn't you were too small from years of undernourishment to make carrying him easy. You adjusted him onto one hip though with ease of practice, still holding his shoes and socks in the other hand. Bro nodded and you followed him out to the front of the resort.

You stopped him just long enough to grab all of your jackets, having to wake Dave up and put him down to manage it. You had him shove on his shoes and socks while you gave a different lady your ticket, then put Dave's jacket on him and your own on yourself. Bro took his jacket without comment, heading out the front door knowing you'd follow him soon enough.

It gave you enough time to think and worry.

Bro was drunk, not that anyone else would be able to tell. But he was _very_ drunk. You could see it in his gait, the way his nods and jerks of his head were less sharp. This is what you called Dangerous Drunk Bro, like this you could even beat him in a strife.

And he'd never driven drunk before. Or if he did, never with you and Dave in the car.

You took Dave's hand and led him out to the front where the valet had already pulled the truck into a parking spot for him. It had been turned off, Bro still talking to who you assumed were his coworkers. It was with a pounding heart that you led Dave towards them.What were you going to do? You were smart, you could find an answer. You looked at Dave, you had to find a solution.

When you reached the truck Bro jerked his head to the passenger door. You led Dave to it, opening the door and helping him up before climbing in after. What to do, what to do. You buckled Dave in then yourself before wrapping your arms around your sleepy little brother, panic climbing up your chest and digging its tendrils in you. 

Maybe you could say something to Bro, tell him how messed up he was and that he shouldn't be driving. Or maybe not, telling Bro he was wrong was dangerous territory, one you'd surely regret. 

But maybe it was the only option. Surely having to face a brutal strife was better than being dead in a ditch, right? So that was settled. You'd have to say something. 

But the panic didn't leave, your heart was still pounding and your blood running electric through you. It felt like you had to do something more, but what was there to do? You glanced at Bro still chatting outside the window and a quote from a game you watched him play flitted through your head. What was it? 

Pick a God and pray?

Well, you didn't really believe in Gods but maybe it couldn't hurt.

You tried to think of a God or Goddess, the name of a single one, but you came up blank. You searched your memory for signs or _anything_ about the Gods and came up empty and you were on the verge of tears when…

Oh. The God at the beach.

You don't know what the God of Wind and Storm could do to help you but it couldn't hurt.

_Hey_.

Wait, is that how you were supposed to greet a God? You'd never prayed before. You shot another look out the window, the conversation sounded like it was winding down. You squeezed Dave tighter.

_Hey. I don't really pray and I don't know if you're real but shit man I'm out of options. I'm nine, I can do fuck all here, so I need your help. I need you to do me a real solid man. Bro's drunk. He's so drunk dude. He can't drive home like this, he'll kill us. So please, if you can do anything with all your godly powers, please just do something. I don't know, make the car not start? Make him pass out? Make him come to his senses? I don't know man please Dave is so little he can't die like this-_

You stopped when a face popped up at the passenger seat window, making you nearly jump out of your skin. 

It was a kid probably a little older than you with buck teeth and glasses. He squished his face against the window and gave you a thumbs up and you were so desperately confused. Dave squirmed in your arms, unhappy to be woken again by your death grip.

You watched as the kid walked - no floated?- around the hood of the car to Bro. He floated up close to his face and looked at him carefully, leaning in to smell his breath. Bro didn't even notice, what the fuck? You tried to get a better look at the kid, his dark wild hair and his weird blue outfit, but he was moving again, making his way back to the front of the car.

It was right before he dove through the hood you saw it, the curly blue symbol of the Wind God. The door opened next to you and your heart was in your mouth. You looked at him as he slid off his shades, rubbing his eyes. You didn't know if this was going to work, you didn't know if you just hallucinated that kid or what. You had to do it.

" Bro-"

" Shut it." He snapped, digging his keys out of his jacket pocket. He shoved them into the ignition and turned, you almost wanted to cry when-

_Click click click._

Your eyes widened. Bro growled next to you, turning the key again.

_Click click click click click._

" Fuck!" Bro slammed his hands against the wheel of the car, Dave jumped in the booster seat and curled in towards you. For once you didn't jump though, all fear had drained from your body.

He did it. Your prayer was answered.

A familiar face popped up from inside the car hood, pulling himself out like it was the most normal thing in the world. He looked at you, all sunshine smiles and buck teeth, giving you a thumbs up before disappearing in the ocean breeze. Bro was on the phone and climbing out of the car when you zoned back in to what was happening. He had left the driver side door open as he went around to the hood, popping it open. You could hear him talking from where you sat.

"Lalonde? Yah woman, damn. I know you're still at the party. I'm out front." The hood blocked most of your view of him, but you could see his shape moving around the edges of the truck.

"Look the damn truck won't start, I don't know how the fuckin' valet drove it here because it's a fuckin mess under the hood." He slammed the hood back down and whatever your God did must have been pretty bad because he looked pissed. You'd probably still be facing a strife tomorrow, but it wouldn't be so bad because he didn't know it was your fault.

"Look yah damn lush, I know you have a chauffeur to drive your drunk ass back to your hotel and I got two kids to get back to the apartment. Finish your fuckin' drink and help a man out here."

Whatever she said must have been to his satisfaction because when he came back to the car he was off the phone. His sleeves were pushed up his engine grease covered arms and his shades pushed up into his hair, and when he gave you and Dave a once over for the first time you weren't scared. Later? Yah, later you'd be scared. But when he jerked his head for you to get out of the car you did so calmly, unbuckling yourself and Dave and pulling him onto your hip without any struggle.

He led you back to the entrance of the club and it was only moments after you got there that the door opened and a very tall blonde woman stepped out. Your heart skipped with a beat of recognition. She motioned for the valet and he immediately was on the phone, then she turned to Bro.

"Derick."

"Rochelle."

She looked him straight in the eyes without flinching, something you'd never seen another person do. Your heart was pounding and you squeezed Dave against your side protectively because she was-

"I will do you this favor on one condition."

“And what's that?" You had never seen Bro like this, so backed into a corner. So defensive.

"I want," she turned, pointing at you. Or no, pointing at Dave," to talk with him."

A black SUV pulled up to the curb, and you swallowed thickly. You were so done with the curveballs tonight. Your anxiety was high again, you felt yourself shaking in your jacket because….because…

Bro barked a laugh and the calm edge you had was lost. You shifted Dave to your other hip with a bit of work and took a step back towards the car.

She was That Lady. She was Dave's mom.

"Good luck with that Ro. You ain't gonna be able to pry him from Dirk there."

"That's quite alright. You go get your truck sorted with the valet, and tip him well for me won't you? I'll get the kids in the car."

She turned to you and you took another step back, your back bumping into the cold side of the vehicle. Your stomach dropped.

"Come on dear, let's get you both settled in."

She reached behind you and you tried your best not to flinch, but she simply opened the door to the SUV acting like you didn't just act like she was going to hit you. She gestured into the car patiently.

It was hard to get up the nerve to turn your back to her but you did, using your free hand to hoist yourself and Dave into the car. You were surprised when there was someone else inside, pink eyes staring at you from one of the two second row seats.

"Hi." The girl had another child on her lap, the little blonde girl Dave had been playing with earlier. Your head was spinning as your brain desperately started picking up the new puzzle pieces dumped in front of it, the picture was becoming clearer.

You gave her a terse nod, going to the back row of the van. You hadn't grabbed Dave's booster seat, so you buckled him in the middle seat so he could lay across your lap. That Lady climbed in after you and sat on the other side of Dave.

She watched you both for a long minute as you buckled yourself in, adjusting Dave on your lap and making sure the lap belt was still across him. You put your hands in his silky hair, heart in your throat as you picked apart the differences between yourself and Dave.

You were half brothers, you always knew that. Your hair twisted and locced, his was silky and smooth to the touch. Bro sat you on the back of the toilet once a month to dye your dark hair back to Strider white, Dave barely had to comb his. Your skin was dark and blotchy from lack of care, you had to slather Dave in sunscreen every morning because any sunburns from strifing on the roof were noticeable on him. He had those delicate European features that were mirrored on That Lady, you looked like a woman you would never know.

And it made you nervous. She was there now, with more right to him than you ever had. And a part of you wanted to beg her to take him away, tell her that she should have never given Dave up in the first place. When she reached out to touch Dave though you instinctively pulled him close. 

"He'll wake up." Your voice sounded small and tinny from disuse and she looked a little startled, her hand still hovering in the air over Dave's back. She was watching you, trying to pick you apart. It hurt to know that; her eyes felt like brands.

"You really love him, don't you?" The softness of her voice in contrast to the searing heat of her stare was disarming. You gave a shy nod, small hands ruffling his hair. It was a soothing habit.

Her hand touched Dave's back before you could stop her, she was close enough you could smell the alcohol on her.

He jolted awake, small fists balling in your shirt as he hauled himself as far away from the adult contact as he could. And you knew it would happen. Bro could sometimes get away with moving him if Dave had been in deep sleep for a while, but he had been up and down so often as you moved him around it was a slim chance a stranger could get away with it. 

If the only touch you knew from adults was pain, what could anyone expect? You shot her a look and helped Dave out of the seatbelt that was only serving to panic him further. She looked like someone slapped her.

She extracted herself from the back seat looking wounded when Bro reappeared. They stood outside the door to the backseat and you watched the girl in the seat in front of you start to get ready to leave. 

She moved her younger sister with as much care as you moved Dave, though she was taller than you so it was probably easier for her. She buckled up the sleeping girl where they had been both sitting, adjusting her head as it lolled forward and leaning her delicately against a purple velvet pillow she pulled from under the seat. You recognized the look on her face, as rare a thing that was, and you looked down at Dave. He had nodded back off against your chest. Yah, Love.

The girl took her mom' place next to Dave, buckling in and kicking one leg up over her knee as she pulled out a ds and began to play. You listened to the adults outside.

"So did yah get to talk to him?" He sounded smug. There was a long pause before she answered.

"Dirk really cares for him, doesn't he?"

"'Bout the only useful thing about 'im." Bro didn't give her much time to answer, climbing in the only open seat left in the back and shutting the door. A few moments later the front passenger side door opened and shut and the car began to move.

"Don't say that Derrik, he seems like a perfectly good kid." She didn't turn to look at him, instead using the rear view mirror to level her gaze at him. A phone was pushed in front of your vision and you only just suppressed the urge to jump and wake Dave again. You looked over to the girl across from you and she nodded at the phone. You took it and looked at it carefully.

don worry shell forget about it tomorrow

im roxy who r u

"Nah Ro, the kid's useless really. Easy enough to teach, but he's hardly a person. Can't even talk right. And it's Bro." 

You grimaced at Bro's words. He was right, you couldn't act like a normal person. Your inability to be normal for any length of time was what took the safe haven of public school away from you. All it took was one meltdown and a suggestion of putting you in "special classes" for Bro to take you away from one guaranteed meal a day and 8 hours away from the apartment. You tapped an answer out onto the phone.

Dirk. I think Dave is your brother.

You handed the phone back to her and she looked shocked, beginning to type again.

"Bro…" her laugh was filled with a mocking glee. That was another feeling you were good at picking out, judgement. " I will call you Derrik or by your given name, you can choose. But he's just a kid, give him a break."

omg really?!?!!? 

how do you think that? is it all the dahinf

dashjng*

dashing**

lalonde charm? 

he is a cutie 

The girl next to you gave Dave a look when you took the phone, almost as if to drive the point home. Yah yah, Dave was cute. And he knew how to play that with you too. Bro made a disgruntled noise from the second row.

"Nah, c'mon watch this. Dirk." You looked up from where you had been getting ready to type an answer out, meeting Bro's eyes as he turned just enough to see you. "How's Dave doin' in school?"

Dave, Dave. You could talk about Dave. You loved talking about Dave. You knew everything about Dave.

"He's ahead of the class in learning his alphabet, his writing and his numbers. He's struggling with learning to tie his shoes but he's getting there. He tied them himself this morning but I had to fix one. He refuses to participate in sports or at recess, and the teacher is worried about his obsession with dead things. He's doing really well in art and he-"

"Tell me about Timaeus." Bro cut you off, but the subject was just as appealing. Your brain let loose the old topic and turned in hunger on the new one.

"Timaeus is a philosophical dialogue written by Plato speculating on the nature of the physical world and human beings. He talks a lot about the Physical world and the Eternal world and speculated on how it came to be. He says that the physical world is characterized by being changeable, which makes it an object of opinion and sensation. The Eternal world-"

"Now tell me Dirk, what's the best horse." Bro interrupted you again and you felt something, an inkling of that itchy burning feeling that you got when things began to become too much. Nevertheless, your brain latched onto horses and-

"It depends on what you need the horse for. Different types of horses have been used for different things over the ages. A couple of the most popular race horse breeds are the Thoroughbred, the American Quarter horse, and the Arabian. The Arabian in particular is known for it's high intelligence and stamina, and for being spirited with a gentle demeanor-"

"And Dirk." You shut your mouth with an audible click of your teeth, your hands were shaky and sweaty, you'd have been clawing your arms if you weren't holding Dave "How are you?"

You could see the cruelty in Bro's eyes, the pointed arrow lodging in your chest. The words don't come. He knew they wouldn't. Couldn't. You stare down at the phone willing the tears to stay put, but you were so tired. The phone said it was close to one AM.

"Yah see Ro? This is how he is. He can tell yah shit but there's no one _really_ there." The girl next to you took the phone from your hand, typing much less enthusiastically this time.

"He sounds a lot like you Derrik." That Lady's voice sounded icey, you couldn't bring yourself to puzzle out why. You were too tired. Too wired from that interaction. You ruffled Dave's hair again, willing your heart to slow.

that wasnt very nice of him :(

tell me ab Dave tho

hes our brother ??? :0

You took the phone in your hands, not looking at Roxy. You couldn't bear the pity, it hurt too much.

Yah. He is.

The car ride lasted much too long. You typed and passed the phone with Roxy for a while, explaining what you knew about Dave and their Mom before she wrote her chumhandle down for you on a piece of paper and stuffed it in your pocket. Then she fell asleep. You think That Lady fell asleep as well at some point. You didn't sleep, though you let yourself close your eyes and pretend.

But maybe you did sleep a little, because the next thing you knew you were being unbuckled and pulled out of the car by familiar, yet startlingly gentle hands. You were hoisted onto a hip, and when you opened your heavy eyes your brain was reeling to catch up. Dave was tucked gently against Bro's chest, cradled like he was something precious. Your head rested on Bro's shoulder, a firm hand pressing you to him in an achingly familiar way.

"Thanks Ro. Unfortunately, I am once again in your debt."

"Don't worry about it Derrik. Just give that kid a break won't you?" Her voice was tired in a way far past physical. Bro grunted in reply.

You looked out the windows as he carried you up the stairs to the top floor. You felt lonely, looking out over the Houston cityscape. But you think, as Bro adjusted you and Dave in his arms to unlock the apartment, you think you felt lonely together.


	2. Chapter 2

It started with your tablet breaking.

To be fair it was a long time coming, you'd been saving up diligently for when that happened even. You had started taking commissions the minute you got the thing a couple years back. It had taken so much scrounging for cash to get it in the first place, you immediately started putting away anything extra for its inevitable demise.

The thing was it was really hard to save when you had to feed you and Dave.

CPS stopped by once, right before the end of the year when Dave was in second grade. Bro had miraculously cleaned the apartment before you even had an inkling of what was happening. Apparently someone at the school was concerned about how skinny he was and the bruises and…

You both lied through the whole thing. Bro wasn't there, but you could feel him. You could feel him in the canned statements you gave them and in the glassy eyes of Cal perched on top of the TV. During the strife afterward you wondered if you should have let them take you and Dave away. It was your first broken bone that night. A rib.

And afterwards all your money went to food. Better food, shelf stable food you could store in the closet. You'd still hoarded the ramen and juice that would mysteriously appear on the counter, but the stash began to include canned veggies, canned tuna, granola bars and store brand spaghettios. If you failed in letting him be taken to safety, it was your job to do better.

So it didn't leave you with a lot of money for savings.

But when it finally broke beyond your repair it had to be done. Your savings were leaner than you'd hoped, you had to dip into it to refill your first aid kits that had gotten dangerously low, but you had enough. You had found a newer brand selling tablets for cheaper than the big name brand you bought last time, and it had good reviews… your stomach dropped when you spent the money anyway. It better be worth it. You couldn't afford to replace it if it turned out to be shit quality.

But your stock of food was fine. Bro hadn't mysteriously airdropped more food into the kitchen, so it'd have to do until you could take more commissions again. You had run the delivery date on your tablet against the food supplies in your closet and it would be close but doable. If it got too down to the wire you might be able to open a couple slots early but…

You shook it off. If you thought too hard about it it dredged up that anxious and obsessive part of yourself that would never let it go. You tried to pull yourself into other projects and the online schooling you were hopelessly too far ahead in.

And things felt like they were going alright for a while. Until they weren't.

You hadn't been able to get Dave out of that strife. You had tried, you really did, but it only made Bro go after him harder so you backed the fuck off. You only allowed yourself to move from where you had stood guard when Bro flash-stepped down the staircase.

Dave couldn't go to school. Not like that. You pulled him down the stairs and to your shared bathroom, counting out your food supplies in comparison to how many days Dave would have to be out and your heart was sinking.

You wouldn't make it. 

You could probably thin it out, skip your own lunches and give them to Dave. Maybe skip your breakfasts too, you didn't need that granola bar. Dave would need more calories to heal as quickly as he needed before the school and CPS started poking around again. 

But then you found yourself standing in your closet, the only food on your square wire shelves consisting of two cups of ramen and two granola bars. Your tablet was supposed to be delivered last week, but it dropped off tracking and still said there was another week for delivery with no updates. What were you supposed to do? You were so fucking hungry it hurt.

And you couldn't tell Dave. He knew something was wrong, you wouldn't let him in the closet. But you couldn't tell him that the food was almost gone and you had no money and the pantry was empty and there were only shitty swords in the fridge. That meant you failed. What were you supposed to _fucking_ do?

You sat in the closet, taking your glasses off and putting them on the empty rack that was supposed to store your provisions. The floor was covered in old worn through shoes that you never bothered to chuck, but you couldn't bring yourself to care how uncomfortable it was.

You had some stuff you could sell, but you don't know if the pawn shop would buy from a twelve year old. You could try Craigslist, but even if you managed to sneak out of the apartment you didn't know how seriously people would take you. Might think you were trying to hawk your parents gear or something.

Bro also might notice if the only nice things you owned went missing, and most were unanticipated gifts from him. How would he react to that?

So… that idea wasn't off the table. You could also try to open commissions early with the stipulation that they could only be started once your new tablet arrived. But that would be riding heavily on your online reputation, something you couldn't afford to have tarnished if something happened like oh, your tablet not showing up at all? You _needed_ those people. Furry art is what fed your brother, as fucked up as that was.

But again… that idea wasn't off the table. What wasn't on the table with the idea of failing Dave hanging over your head? You sat and thought on your options until your anxiety kicked high enough to trigger your twitchiness. Your body thrummed with nervous energy and fear and you felt like you needed to do something, anything. 

You stood up.

When you were smaller and had this energy you had less control. You would scream and yell, scratch at your arms, bite at your hands and bang your head against the nearest surface. That changed three years ago.

You closed the closet door fully behind you, reaching for the string to turn on the sad bulb. The buzzing noise always initially bothered you, but when you pushed apart all the clothes to find the back wall of the closet it always faded to the background.

Since that night three years ago you had managed to convince yourself what you saw was a hallucination. One born of lack of sleep and pure unbridled fear. It was pure luck, whatever happened to Bro's truck, and it was a little embarrassing when you had spent the next year obsessed with the ideas of Gods and Goddesses. You had read anything you could find on them, learned how to make altars and pray. It was all consuming, so much so that even when you finally reasoned yourself out of it certain habits stuck.

The back of your closet stuck.

It's not like you could make big shows of devotion in public, that would have gotten you a level 10 strife from hell, but for one year you did what you could. Hiding his sign in the backgrounds of commission pieces, swirling clouds in the sky. Hiding it in obsessively doodled patterns that took over notebooks and eventually made it onto your desk. The biggest risk you allowed yourself to take though was the closet. What you had considered, for about twelve months, to be your altar.

If not for the subject, you might consider it to be one of your best works so far. You spent many sleepless nights with the blue sharpie you stole from Walmart and the back of your closet. So long that even after your belief faded, nothing calmed you more than when you sat in front of it again. 

In the middle was his sign. It had honestly taken you the longest, you had wanted it to be just so. Three years later you could see where it could be improved but you started there nonetheless, pressing your finger to the tip of the sigil and beginning to trace.

From the sign a complex and delicate geometric pattern sprawled out. You remembered each movement, the order of each line. It meant something then. Tears stung your eyes, you wish it could mean something now.

But it never happened again. You'd prayed and begged and held hope that divine help would be offered, but it never came. You either used up your one free miracle, or it never happened like that in the first place. You preferred the latter idea.

_Please._

Your fingers continued to follow the lines, comforting tactile math.

_I know, I stopped praying. I know I'm praying without faith now. But you helped. We're out of food. I'm trying, I'm trying so hard. I…_

Your finger jumped when a silent sob shook your chest. You started the last line over and continued tracing.

_I'm so hungry. I have maybe a day and a half of food for Dave. And fuck… Dave. I've failed Dave._

_Please…_

You only just finished tracing the whole pattern because it would feel worse to leave the ritual uncompleted. Then you let yourself crash into the wall and cry. If Bro found you like this you'd be fucked, if Dave found you like this you'd have to explain. Still, you let yourself cry until you couldn't anymore on the gross floor of your closet.

The only thing worse than crying was the after. You were already so tired and weak from not eating almost anything in a week, and crying took so much energy. You struggled to your wobbly feet, head spinning. You needed water and… you bit your lip as you grabbed a granola bar along with your shades off the wire shelving. You needed something to eat. You were the worst.

You covered the back of the closet again, the half formed thought that you should take rubbing alcohol to it and wipe it down making its way in and out of your head lazily. You always thought about it but never did it. You got a glass of warm water from the bathroom sink and sat at your desk, eating your shameful granola bar and filling the rest of the empty space in your stomach with the water. What were you going to do?

You spent the rest of the afternoon dragging your feet through putting together an emergency commission post, saving it for later when you couldn't stare at your virtual begging any longer. Then you went to do your rounds on the apartment, Dave would be home soon.

Another ritual. You started at your bedroom door and began the quiet walk. It was if you were crawling the long road down the green mile; you moved with purpose, knowing full well what would be at the end if you took one misstep.

You crawled the wall disarming traps and clearing the walkway. The futon was empty and safe. You touched the xbox, it was cold. He wasn't in the living room recently. You stalked past the front door, disarming the trap set for Dave and standing and listening for a long moment. You were one of two apartments at the top, the rest of it being storage for maintenance. Either way you heard nothing. You moved on towards the kitchen.

You opened the fridge from the side and let the swords fall in front of you. Nothing new in the fridge. You repacked the shitty swords back in and switched the magnetic tell that warned Dave it wasn't safe. You moved onto the cabinets. Nothing but smuppets. You repack those away as well. You disarmed the sink and blender, throwing away the toaster when you found it mangled from a trap that set itself off early. Back around the island. The last stretch. 

You disarmed a trap behind the futon, pocketing the throwing stars it would have triggered. Then?

You hardly took a breath as you pressed up against Bro's door.

Like this, if you closed your eyes and focused, you could hear him breathe.

One long minute, two long minutes you finally let out a sigh. You cracked the door and peeked in, he wasn't home. You closed the door again and as if right on cue, the front door cautiously opened. Dave was home.

He peeked in, relaxing when he saw you and you gave him a tiny nod. Then he stepped in the door, closing it behind him and giving you a nod in return.

"Sup?" He didn't move an inch, waiting for you. 

"Bro's not home. The place is safe." You watched the tension run out of him and he finally relaxed, moving to go to the room to drop off his stuff. Bad idea to leave it out where Bro could tamper with it.

"How was school today?" Dave came back out with a folder of homework and plopped on the couch. You joined him, still a little more wound up then you'd have liked to be. It was almost four, his walk home took longer than you'd like. It also meant Dave would be wanting food in the next two hours.

"It was school. Got a new book to read in English so I'll probably be up late to try and finish it. Want to take it back soon." Ah yes, because last time Bro found him reading for school he destroyed the book. That was money out of your savings to pay the school back for it. Dave pulled out his math homework though and began working. He always did it first when he knew you'd be around to help.

"We might take a trip to the pawn shop tomorrow." You wished you had grabbed your laptop, it was a shitty home build Bro had dropped in front of your door but you had gotten it to work and you felt like you should be working on something. The food situation was still buzzing in the back of your brain, you tapped on Dave's homework to indicate an incorrect answer on his basic multiplication and division worksheet.

"Why?" Dave had flopped on the couch on his belly so you could see his eyes looking up at you from behind his shades, "Everything okay?" 

Dave's voice was tight, he hadn't spewed out a single ounce of his never ending bullshit since he stepped in the door. Your ability to keep things under control and under wraps was slipping.

"Perfect." You got up, earning a petulant whine from Dave in the process. You came back quickly with your laptop though, and he seemed to deem that as acceptable because he got back to his homework. It was nice of him not to point out your lie, and you tapped his homework at another incorrect answer as a quiet thank you. He erased it with a grumble.

You opened up your laptop, watching the os of the week boot up. You had gotten sick of MS-DOS pretty quickly, moving on to Linux until it frustrated the hell out of you, messed with OS/2 until you were bored of it, and currently you were playing with FreeBSD. None of them did what you _wanted_ though, not really. You picked them apart while messaging Roxy frequently, lamenting your lack of more powerful hardware so you could bend them to your will. You messed with the user interface a bit as you let it finish loading up before you opened pesterchum. Maybe you could bug Roxy to help you with your own os project.

Another option for fixing the food problem haunted the back of your mind, instead you glance over at Dave again and run your eyes over his worksheet. You point out another mistake. The bubble next to her pink handle said she was online.

You could always ask Roxy for money. You know she skimmed off her mother's accounts already, patching up holes in care in her and Rose's life much like you did for Dave's and your own. She even offered to teach you when she was worried over how diligent you were with your commissions. You had declined, Bro cared more than That Lady. That would have ended poorly.

But Roxy knew something was wrong with your life, even if you never told her. If you asked she would say yes in a heartbeat, you knew that. But if you asked for anything you'd have to explain it all. One hint of weakness and she'd wring it out of you, firm but loving. You never knew anyone, much less another twelve year old, with as much power of persuasion as Roxy Lalonde.

It… was still on the table. Albeit pushed far behind the other options available to you. A message popped up on your screen.

tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]  


  


TG: yooooo dirky hows it worky?  


TT: The lady of the hour. I was hoping you'd want to help with my OS project.  


TG: ooohmygod dirk yes!  


That was easy enough. You sent the most recent version of your project to her, she was honestly the more skilled of you both on the software end. Then you opened your project yourself and got to work. It was as good as anything to keep your mind off your troubles… and your stomach.

It was closing in on seven thirty when Dave finally mentioned food. He had fucked around finishing his homework for a while, but had eventually got there and started in on the book he had to read for his report. You told him he could keep reading it and you'd handle dinner, making the grueling march towards your meager stores. 

You opened the close again with a heavy heart, grabbing at a single cup ramen when you noticed something. You stepped completely into the closet, leaving the door open for light, and inspected the food you had left.

Including the ramen in your hand, you had two cup ramens left and two granola bars. You turned to look at your desk and no, you didn't forget to eat it. The Nature Valley wrapper was still on your desk with all the unfortunate crumbs that came with it. Did you miscount? It seemed the most likely option but….

Your traitorous stomach growled. You should save this extra miracle food for Dave. But…

He would give you a hard time if you went out there without food _again._ You grabbed the granola bar and felt like the world's worst brother as you went to start the hot water for Dave's noodles. You had enough food for Dave's breakfast and dinner tomorrow. Lunch would be supplied by school. You had twenty four hours to make this work.

You always woke up before Dave anyway, but you doubled down on it when food started becoming scarce. You were always up long before the sun, putting jeans and a tee-shirt on the end of Dave's bed with his granola bar for breakfast. That routine was disrupted though, with another strange discovery.

With sleepy eyes you had stumbled into the closet, it had hardly felt like you had fallen asleep before your internal clock jolted you awake five minutes before your alarm went off like always. You grabbed a shirt for Dave, short sleeve, he hadn't been forced into a strife lately and it was hot. Then jeans; you looked them over for new holes. He needed a new pair, but you still had a little more time. You just needed to break out the patches. 

It was when you turned to grab Dave's breakfast that you stopped. In front of you, two cups of ramen and two granola bars.

Okay, something was going on here.

You tentatively took both granola bars, glancing at the back of your closet covered by threadbare clothes. It seemed unlikely yet…

Was there a foolish part of you that always held out that you were wrong? You left the closet, closing it firmly behind you.

Dave left for school without incident and you tried to keep yourself busy in your room. You could hear Bro out in the living room, you hoped he would leave. In the meantime you worked on code and turned over your current situation.

Food kept appearing. You weren't crazy, there shouldn't have been two cup ramen left. Between you and Dave you had eaten the last of the granola twice over. You stood up from your desk chair and went over to your closet, peeking in. There were two granola bars sitting there where they shouldn't logically be. 

You wished Bro would leave so you could continue putting this to the test.

Eventually, though not quite soon enough for your taste, you heard the living room TV turn off and the shuffle of things moving around. When it finally stopped you peeked out the door just in time to see Bro leave, DJing equipment on his back. The front door clicked shut and you waited three, four, five minutes before you let out a long breath. Dave would be home soon, it was time to take your walk.

You grabbed a cup noodle and tried not to stop and stare at the impossible food any longer than you needed, walking carefully out into the living room.

The futon, the warm xbox, disarming a trap, the front door. The fridge, you flip the magnet again, a horrifying puppet snuff scene carefully set up on the counter, the cupboards were a trap you disarmed. Along the back of the couch, a trap in the crawlspace you disarm, Bro's door. You heard him leave, but press your ear against it anyway. No breathing. You peaked inside and are blessed with confirmation. So lunch.

You started the electric kettle, keeping your distance from the puppet that would still occasionally vibrate erratically before sputtering out. There was probably a camera somewhere recording this. Once again an unwilling part of some creep's spank bank. Whatever.

Maybe you could make a bot to keep track of and scrape all of Bro's porn sites, it would be good to add to your manila folder of evidence. You thought it over as the kettle clicked, and you poured the water into the ramen. For maybe a year now you had been compiling evidence, janky polaroid pictures of every injury, dated. Paper copies of every commission invoice, receipts from every shopping trip. You could petition to emancipate yourself at 16 at the earliest, but if you wanted to take Dave with you you had to have evidence you could take care of him. That you already had been. 

And you couldn't get into the weird porn rings you knew Bro ran, he couldn't catch the call coming from inside the house, but you _knew_ there was still some footage of you and Dave on the internet. That sort of proof would help. You peeked under the lid of the cup, your stomach growling from anticipation despite the otherwise gut turning topic you were mulling over. You grabbed a sleeve of plastic take out cutlery and took your ramen back to the room, it was about ready.

You started putting together the bot as you tried not to cry over how _good_ the shitty chicken ramen tasted. When Dave got home a couple hours later you helped him with homework before making dinner. There were two cups of ramen waiting for you. You grabbed both and closed the door, before thinking again and peeking back in. Only two granola bars, so whatever was happening needed time. After Dave finally went to bed you checked again and you found two ramen where they weren't supposed to be.

And the week went on like that. The stress waning every time the impossible food was there. You still obsessively checked on the unchanging status of your tablet but it was easier to help Dave, work on your projects, hone your coding. It occurred to you that if it was something you got good at then it could be another skill to sell, a fallback in situations like this.

It also gave you the energy to be more conscientious of your surroundings again.

You hadn't realized you had gotten lax until you were working and your elbow bumped into something that shouldn't have been there. A granola bar. You looked around warily before going to check your stores and no, it wasn't from there. You ate it, but it put you on your toes.

It started happening more and more. If you sat somewhere too long, food would appear. So you began looking for tells. A cool breeze with all the windows closed, a wind chime going off on one of the balconies below yours, the familiar feeling of someone watching you.

You had been at your desk when your hand dashed out, grabbing hold of an impossibly soft shirt.

"Oh."

You looked up at the messy haired God that you had managed to surprise, your lips pressed in a thin line. He hadn't changed a bit. About your age at that point, same goofy glasses, same buck teeth. His hair was a little longer, but still dark and wild, and his skin was a deep brown, though not as dark as your own.

He pulled a bit, trying to float away from you. You held fast though and before he could whisk away into the air you managed to finally stutter out the words that had been caught up in your throat.

"Th-thanks. For the help. Then and uh, now." You let him go, grabbing the granola bar and opening it. You were surprised when you glanced back and he was still there. 

His face was pinched and dark like a storm. A fitting comparison with what you'd read about him since you'd seen him last. You pulled out one of the crumbly bars and began eating it. He was wound tightly, folding himself almost into the fetal position as he hung in the air.

"Sup?" You had managed to regulate your emotions and thus your voice and though you might normally consider this a perk, hearing yourself you wondered if you might just be too cold for this conversation. Too broken. You were torn from that line of thought when tears began to roll down your God's cheeks.

"I wanted to help before this, I really did." You were frozen, he was sobbing and hiccuping and this was so far out of your wheelhouse you were lost, "There's only so much Gods can interfere with, but I wanted to. And then you stopped praying and I…"

He felt like he failed you. You weren't expecting this. You were expecting that sly grin, the thumbs up everything will be okay optimism. Instead you had a God who felt beholden, responsible for you.

"And when you stopped praying I couldn't hear you anymore and- " a sharp intake of breath " and it took me so long to find you again and when I did I couldn't believe I just left you like this. I felt like I was powerless so I just left the first person who really believed in me to…"

He unfurled himself from the ball he had wound himself into and gestured broadly around the room, but you had a feeling he meant more than that. The apartment, Bro, the entire situation that was your business as usual. You started in on the second granola bar, trying to figure out the proper response in a situation like that.

"- and now you're thanking me? Thanking me like I shouldn't have been doing more the whole time?" Okay you were getting to the point of done, his voice was pitching into slightly hysterical and it made your blood pulse with that unhappy energy. If he didn't calm down you would be doing something real stupid looking to make it go away. You cut him off before he could beat himself up further.

"There are rules. That makes sense." A poor attempt at comfort, logically trying to absolve him of his guilt. You were always bad at this part, it's not like you had many good examples to learn from, "You're here now, and it's why we're okay. So it's okay." 

He looked caught off guard and it gave you a moment to notice exactly how blue his eyes were. They were like the hot Texas sky on a cloudless day, brighter for the tears in his eyes. Something stirred within you but you grabbed hold of it and shoved in deep into the recesses of your mind to deal with later.

"Really?" His voice sounded a little broken, but hopeful. Like Dave's did when you were telling him it wasn't his fault when he was helping to patch you up after a strife you took for him. You knew the response to this, and you nodded with authority.

"Yah really. And you're a new God right? Must have more rules in place for you." You turned away from him and back to the desktop. It was still running Windows 2000 much to your chagrin, but Dave also had to use it for homework sometimes so you had let it be. This was a comfortable line of thought compared to the raw emotional nerve that the whole conversation with your God was.

"Well, sorta. I guess that's what the humans call us, but honestly I think that's misleading." His voice was still thick with emotion but you let that go, messing absently with the code you had open as you listened, "Honestly I'm a real old God, it's just been awhile since I could do anything useful. And that probably seemed even longer from a human perspective. But wind and storm y'know? Some of the oldest things to pray to."

You knew it was probably rude but you let the conversation hang in the air for a moment as you played with the information you were just given. It had been a while since you had studied anything about the Gods and Goddesses, but when you reached into your mind you were only mildly surprised to find all of the information still there. You skimmed through what you knew, holding the pieces against what he had just told you as you tried to find what fit together. Old gods? New gods?

"Were you an… Absent God?" You spoke carefully, it was a sore subject amongst humans, regulated only to whispers in academic circles. No one liked to think that Gods could just disappear, others disliked the ideas that their Gods would simply abandon them more. You saw him flinch from the corner of your eye.

"I mean, it's not like we left on purpose." His voice was quiet, you were mostly glad you didn't manage to set him off again. "It's not like we wanted to go."

You nodded, writing and rewriting a specific line in the code. If you weren't trying to hold a conversation at the same time you could probably make an executive decision about this, as it was your mind was reeling with questions. You were a little overwhelmed, this was the sort of thing you had reserved only for your most hidden daydreams. A slim possibility only brought out to comfort yourself when you had almost no hope left. Yet here he was fulfilling the roll, even if everything was wildly off script. You take a left turn in the conversation, moving farther away from all the things your brain wanted answers to.

"Do Gods have names?" You finally settled on what to write, though you added in a note to run it by Roxy later. You were still watching him from the corner of your eyes and he seemed to relax more when steered from the previous line of questioning.

"Well, sort of. Some of us chose our own names, some of us had them given." He played with the end of his hood, it was long and reminded you of a wind sock. You wondered if that was some sort of cosmic joke. "I've had a couple names, why?"

"What should I call you? I'm not gonna just call you God of Wind and Storm, that's a mouthful." And you already didn't like the amount of times you'd caught yourself referring to him as _your_ God _._ That was simply embarrassing. He seemed to think on this question a good minute though, giving you time to bury that embarrassing thought with code.

"I suppose you could call me John." He finally relented. Something tickled in the back of your brain and you put a tab on it to inspect later. As it was you looked at the time and your skin itched. Dave would be home soon, you had a ritual to fulfill. 

"Well John, thank you." You stood up and stretched, reveling in each joint popping. You supposed you should be too young for that, but hours at the computer would do that to someone. You felt his eyes on you as you walked to the door, a gentle breeze tickled the back of your neck and when you turned he was gone. You pulled the door firmly closed with a click as you began your walk.

He hung around more after that, sometimes simply floating in your peripherals as you helped Dave, sometimes talking quietly at you as you worked. It was strange, you never had someone _care_ what happened to you outside of Dave. But he'd be there, giving you quiet warnings when Bro was coming up the stairs or to stop you if you were too close to hitting a trap you missed. It was like you caught him and now he had nothing left to lose. 

He wasn't always there though; you assumed it was because he still had Godly things to do. And it was on an afternoon when both he and Dave were gone when the tracking finally changed on your tablet. Your heart nearly skipped a beat when you refreshed the page and the words simply read: delivered.

Bro was still home so you had to be careful slipping out of the apartment. You waited impatiently at the bedroom door until you heard him go to the bathroom, then you booked it as quietly and quickly as possible, narrowly avoiding and disarming the traps left for you. When you got to the stairwell you took the steps two or three at a time, hopping over railings and down floors when it was safe and there was no one around to scold you. Your heart was pounding with excitement, you wondered how many commissions you could get tonight if you put up unlimited slots. You could take Dave to the store tomorrow when the first half was paid up front and get food, _real food._

You couldn't get to the mailboxes fast enough, fishing your copy of the mail key out of your pocket and shaking from hunger and anticipation as you opened it up and….

It was empty. The mailbox was empty.

Your heart sank, your stomach twisting in on itself. If it wasn't in the mailbox, the only other place it could be was…

The janky ass elevator was on the main floor so you took it back up to the top. It rattled and groaned ominously, and if it wasn't for Dave you would have wished it would just break and drop you all the way back down to your death.

You opened the door to the apartment again slowly, checking for traps. None had been reset, but something worse was waiting. A note.

**Rooftop. Now. Bring Cal.**

You double checked you had everything you needed, your fingerless gloves, shoes with good grip, your katana. You were always ready though, so going to the roof really couldn't be put off. You grabbed Lil' Cal from where he seemed to stare with a gleeful blankness from the couch and headed to the roof.

His sword was resting broad side on one shoulder, in his other hand a package. Your package. You clutched Cal close. You would offer to trade him for the package, but you know the minute Bro went to swing he would disappear. You could never tell if you just dropped him or if Bro was faster than he let on.

"So, you don't think you need me anymore?" You jump a bit in your skin, grasping the hilt of the katana at your side. You don't really know what he's talking about, he knew you had a tablet before this. What changed? 

"Mm?" Your voice was caught in your throat, fear squeezing at your lungs. You tried your best to play it cool though, coaching your face to that blank mask despite your mind reeling. It was picking up and rearranging those puzzle pieces, your tablet, not needing him, surveillance. Commissions? Your food stash? He hadn't supplied food but you were still eating…

The pieces clicked into place and he was coming at you. Cal was gone, you barely had enough time to swing your sword up to block properly. As it was the momentum of the downward swing pushed you back, your sneakers skidding across the gravel and asphalt. This was bad, there was no pretense of training, no kindness there. Just the after imagine of a white polo shirt and cap and the hum of his sword in the air. 

Dave would be home soon, this had to end. You tried to track his tells, a foot pointing left, he feints right. You barely jumped back in time and felt the tickle of the air at your throat as the sword flew past. You wished John was there. He would help you keep track of the bastard- sword up, you pushed back, he disappeared as fast as it happened. You knew the ledge was approaching fast behind you, you tuck and roll to the left, using the momentum to springboard to where he was but he was gone. 

You wished John was there. 

It seemed to drag on forever but it was over before you knew it, the broad side of the sword hitting your temple and you were down. The last thing you remember was a shadow over you and something hitting your chest before the world went black. 

"Dirk?"

Your eyes felt gummy, your mouth dry. A shadow hovered over you and you jerked back instinctively, raising your arms to cover your face but no- your arms screamed at the movement and you couldn't stop the pathetic whimper that escaped from your mouth.

"Fuck, Dirk stop moving." Cool hands touched your arms, slowly moving them down until you saw that the figure over you was just Dave. There was a cut on his cheek and you reached out slowly, trying to voice your concern but your mouth not cooperating.

"I said stop moving asshole. Fuck, you probably have heatstroke. Do we have aloe in the first aid?" Dave was nine, he shouldn't sound so tired. You knew his question was rhetorical, but you shook your head anyway. You used the last of the aloe on Dave when he forgot his key and got sunburnt waiting to be let in while Bro cornered you into a strife. Didn't realize you had forgotten to get more.

"Can you move dude? You are… pretty badly burnt. It'll hurt like shit if I touch you…" don't move, move, what did he want from you? You just wanted to sleep, you felt like shit warmed over.

You hadn't realized you had closed your eyes and nodded off again until your shades were being pulled off your face and a hand was being pressed oh so carefully to your cheek. It hurt and you tried to pull away weakly.

"Dirk please, we need to get you out of the sun dude." Dave's voice was pitched up in an almost desperate worry. You sigh heavily, forcing your aching arms under yourself and pushing yourself up in compliance. 

Somewhere in the fuzzy distance you heard a wind chime, an abnormally cool breeze caressed your burnt face. 

Dave wedged himself under your arm and helped haul you up and steady you on your feet. Your skin felt tight, there was definitely a gash on your side that needed stitches. You could feel where it split as you moved, oozing as the dried and crusty blood opened again. You only managed a couple steps before doubling over vomiting up the little you had in your stomach. Yah. Concussion probably.

Dave managed to help you down the stairs and if it was a bit easier than normal, well you'd blame the unnatural eddies of wind that stirred at your feet in the otherwise stuffy and still stairwell. 

You don't really remember getting from the stairwell to the bathroom, but that's the next place you remember being. Your shirt was off, you were slumped against the back of the toilet, a damp rag gently pulling at the skin around the gash in your side. Dave noticed you waking up again when you winced, and he reached for the numbing gel in the first-aid kid. You didn't like when he wasted it on you, you could handle it, but when you made a noise of protest you were treated to the sternest look a nine year old could give you.

"No Dirk, shut up. If you have to get stitches from me, I'm not gonna make you feel it." You could still hear the desperate fear in his voice, you could see the strained look in the tightness around his mouth. You're glad to see it there, it meant you did your job protecting him.

You shifted so he could access the wound better, but that left you looking at yourself in the mirror. You didn't look like Dave when he had a sunburn, but you could see the angry red tint to your dark skin, especially with your glasses off. You had a horrible glasses tan. Or burn in that case. Your cheeks were swelling and bruising too and your eyes, well your eyes were really blown out from the concussion. You focused on the feeling of the numbing gel being smeared on your ribs, the sounds of Dave opening the butterfly stitch bandages you splurged on back before all this started. If you were that badly concussed you shouldn't let yourself nod off again, no matter how badly you wanted to. 

There was a gentle squeeze to your hand when Dave started on the stitches.

After a long, ice cold shower, you let Dave manhandle you into your shared bedroom. You tried not to look too surprised when you saw your package sitting at your desk, but Dave wouldn't let you fuss with it. It's how you ended up in bed, Dave curled up protectively at your side sound asleep.

And you were awake, and had to stay that way for some amount of hours due to your brain getting rattled around a bit. It was hard not to think about all the things you could be doing, putting up a commission post, starting on drawings, working on code. If you tried to get up at that point though, you knew Dave would be fussing about how you shouldn't be using a screen just yet. You stayed put in bed just so you didn't have to tell him that you'd done worse before.

Your digital clock said it was midnight when you heard the sound of wind chimes outside your open window. A cool breeze washed over your warm face, out of place in the suffocatingly still Texas night. You turned your head to the side to see him, your God, a floating shadow in your room. You blinked at him, you had no voice to offer tonight.

Your eyes were already adjusted to the dark, but it still took you a moment to notice how his shoulders were shaking. His head was bowed, hands clasped together like he was in some sort of prayer. You vaguely wondered what could have upset your God so much, but when his glowing blue eyes were finally raised to meet yours you knew. You. It was you.

Something in you cracked then, something you thought had hardened years ago. You made a small noise, as much of an apology you could offer.

"Why didn't…" his voice cracked, his hands dropping and forming fists at his side as he floated closer, " you could have called Dirk, I would have come!"

His voice was rising but Dave didn't stir, you could hear papers fluttering on the wall, saw the shadows move as his wind picked up with his emotions.

And you still didn’t have words. You opened your mouth and closed it again, settling on carefully lifting a sore arm towards him. He landed on the floor, collapsing to his knees as he clasped your calloused hand between his. Like in prayer, your mind supplied again. He rested his forehead on his hands, you could feel the warm tears. His next words came out in a whisper.

"You're not alone anymore, Dirk. I'm here now." You felt the warmth of his breath on your hand, maybe the brush of his lips on the tips of your fingers. "I'm sorry I left you for so long, but I'm here now. And I'll protect you, rules be damned."

And he was hiccuping quietly, the wind finally settling again to a cool breeze across your sunburnt skin. You could already feel the blisters forming and when you finally shifted to take your hand back it hurt. He fought it a bit, though finally released your hand when you grunted at him in annoyance. You tried not to let guilt eat at you as he immediately sat back, wrapping his arms around his knees and curling into a ball.

You moved carefully, in painfull inches as you shuffled Dave closer to the wall. Like a particularly stubborn barnacle he complied, but not without suctioning himself to your side even tighter. When the arrangement was the best you could make it you turned your head back to John, patting the room on the bed beside you.

He didn't look up initially, but when you finally slapped the sheets beside you he looked up with watery eyes. Misery, then surprise. You tapped the bed gentler again, and he finally floated up and settled on the edge of the bed with you. Your mouth twisted, not really what you had in mind. 

Picking up the edge of the sheet, you opened the bed for him to join you. He looked hesitant, but relented when you gave a final (painful) jerk of your head. You couldn't tell him to take off his shoes, but when he crawled under the sheet with you and Dave you felt his cold toes against your legs. 

And if you thought he'd be shy, you'd have been wrong. Almost mirroring Dave he wrapped an arm around you, careful to avoid the wound that throbbed on your side. He trapped your arm under him, and his head found a place settled in the crook of your shoulder. You didn't know if Gods needed sleep, but John was quickly there.

When you finally fall asleep yourself, you don't feel alone.


	3. Chapter 3

You hadn't really noticed at first, but it became apparent when he had been around long enough to be able to look back. He was growing with you. Thirteen to fourteen. Fourteen to fifteen. Time marched on slowly to seventeen and that's where you found yourself, looking over your God from behind the safety of your shitty shades.  
When he came back the first time he had been the same as when you first met. You'd have placed him tentatively around thirteen, soft faced and long limbed. His hair was still wild, you'd even humor him and say windswept, his eyes still blue like the hot Texas sky, but he was different now. You were different now.  
He was floating, thumbing through one of the several large manilla folders with that sort of stern look on his face that'd you would say was rare if you didn't know otherwise. He only let himself look like that if he thought you weren't looking, but you were. You looked at his broad shoulders and how they slumped over as he hung in the air, like he was hanging over the arm of a couch. You looked at how age sharpened the curve of his jaw, and how he worked it as he skimmed through the evidence there. That was just 2012, and it was already getting big. 2011 had ultimately needed two folders to keep it all together.  
And he kept them for you. Bro almost found them once. You had walked in on him ruffling through your closet, food tipped onto the floor and clothes pushed aside. Sunlight hit your altar clear as day. The folders were right above his head, jammed in an old box of records Dave didn't spin with anymore. You took the brutal strife that came after that with relief, and begged John later to hide them while you wiped down the back of the closet with acetone, tears in your eyes. You didn't need to ask twice, and you don't know where he kept them, but he was always willing to grab them if you needed them.  
Like at the moment he had brought them out so you could work on your emancipation papers. You had print them off at the library to keep Bro from finding out, and you kept them with the folder just in case. Logically, you knew your time to work on them was ticking down. You shouldn't be watching John from the corner of your eyes, picking apart how he grew with you. You had shit to do. You couldn't swing it at sixteen but you could now and you couldn't miss that chance.  
Yet you still stared and perhaps it was the silence, your pen stilled while you were lost in thought, or perhaps he knew all along, but he tilted his head and smiled that sly smile and winked at you.  
"What's up?" He floated closer, peeking over your shoulder at your paperwork, "You lost?"  
You shook your head, putting your pen down and tilting your head just so to mimic the illusion of eye contact. That was still hard for you, so you absently picked constellations out of the bold smatter of freckles across the bridge of his nose.  
"You grew with me." With the apartment quiet, Dave was still at school and Bro off doing something… Bro-like, the words came easy.  
John looked a little startled at that, nodding absent-mindedly as he sat back in the air above your right shoulder. He crossed his legs and played with the end of his wind sock, mulling over your statement carefully.  
You didn't bring up stuff like that often. God stuff. At best you'd get half answers, snippets of stories and explanations that left you wanting more. At worst John's eyes would grey, a storm rolling in with a sad, pensive look on his face. If you were lucky he'd stay when that happened. Normally he would just disappear in a harsh breeze. Your unspoken question seemed to be inoffensive enough though because he was still there.  
"Well yah, I didn't want you to treat me like Dave. I'm still older than you y'know." He answered like it was nothing, like there hadn't been a heavy pause between what you said and his reply. Normally you'd leave that well enough alone, but you didn't think your follow-up question was any worse.  
"So could you be any age you want?"  
"Yah!" the tension slid off his face and you wondered where he thought the conversation was going to go before that, “I also don’t necessarily have to look like this, this is just… normal me I guess?"  
"Could you show me?" You felt like you were really pressing your luck today, but John grinned as he floated back and settled himself with his feet on the floor.  
A small gust of wind whipped through the room and his body glowed brightly, electricity humming and crackling against his skin. You'd find a way to kill a God if he fried your computer, but it faded out as quickly as it started.  
And there in front of you was… you?  
Wow, you didn't like this. Not one bit. Every scar, every discolored mark on your dark skin was mirrored back at you. Your hair, bottle blond dreads tied back and your roots showing. John took off your shades, his eyes still blue, and his grin looked strange and foreign on your face.  
"Oh. No." You shook your head and he laughed like a bell, clear and bright, hands on his stomach as he doubled over into a giggle fit. It was a terrifyingly open look on you and it stung, you recoiled back into your chair "I meant you… older."  
"I know, I know." He straightened himself, hooking the duplicate of your shades on the neck of your duplicate tank top. Seeing it on your body like that made you realize how poorly all of Bro's hand me downs really fit on you. "But your face Dirk, your face!"  
Your face twisted in discomfort but, before you could say anything else, the wind whipped again and he crackled, body stretching and expanding this time. It was faster, maybe because he was simply becoming a different version of himself, and it was only mere moments before a young man stood before you. He was tall, broader, the baby fat from around his face gone and his awful mullet tied back into a tiny ponytail. He had scruff on his chin and that mischievous look in his eyes. An all too familiar feeling pooled in your gut and the discomfort on your face flashed to embarrassment before you pulled it back under that tight mask.

  
Maybe this was a bad idea.  
Look, you had come to terms with the awful as fuck crush you had somewhere in the last couple years, but you thought you had it under control. You just really didn't think John could get hotter. He stood there as a testament to all the things you liked in a guy, his shoulders wide, his arms muscled yet lithe. You hoped he was fucking with you because even though he still looked like a massive dork he had to be nerdier than this or you'd hit a problem when you were whatever age he was supposed to be. Hell, it was kind of a problem right the fuck then.  
"What do you think?" He spread his arms, grinning that goofy grin at you. What did you think? What did he think you thought? Hopefully it wasn't anywhere near the truth.  
"Still look like a nerd." You turned back to the paperwork you were supposed to be working on, trying desperately not to think of how wide John's hands were and how he could-  
You felt John tense before you heard the door open. It was too early to be Dave which meant-  
John scooped up the manilla folder off your desk and disappeared in a gust of wind that left the papers and posters on your wall fluttering. You turned back to the computer nervously, intending to mess around your coding you left open for exactly this reason when, in dawning horror, you realized what was left on your desk. You managed to shove the papers in a desk drawer and shut it before your door opened and an imposing shadow demanded your attention.  
You looked up at him and blinked owlishly from behind your shades, your cursor was blinking on the screen in time with the heavy beating of your heart. He stared at you long and silently before shutting the door again. You sighed in relief.

The release of your own OS went well. It was freeware, but with regular updates and patches over the years the donation link you had on your site started getting some use. You tried to share some of that with Roxy, she was the heavy hitter with the code after all, but after you finally told her what was happening in your apartment she refused. The downside is you felt guilty every time you emptied your paypal into your bank account. The upside was that one of your friends finally knew, and you had a place to live lined up when you and Dave finally got out of there.

TT: So you are absolutely sure your Mother won't flip her shit if we just show up there.   
TG: absoooolutable!   
TT: Even though she seems to trust Bro enough to maintain contact with him, despite an obvious split after Dave and Rose's conception.   
TG: if u think shes gonna tattle i doubt it dirky   
TG: i kno they talk smtms and stuff but   
TG: she really seems to kinda resent him n shit   
TG: did i tell u rosey asked ab dave once?   
TG: she was so sad durk   
TG: she got soooo drunk thst nite

The paperwork was almost complete, so you were hammering out as many of the fine details you could. You needed a place to live, between commissions and coding you were making enough to prove you could pay your way for yourself and Dave. There were other things you needed, but hopefully the evidence of abuse would be enough to have people jumping through hoops to help. You already warned Dave that you guys might be separated by the CPS for a bit, but you had proof you could do this. You would get him and you would get to New York in the shitty fucking truck Bro signed over to you last year and you both would be free.

TT: The next time you guys hear from us it will probably be from different handles. When you get them will you pass it on to everyone else?   
TG: :0 ur given up timaeus?!   
TT: He knows our screen names Rox, it has to be done. And you and Rose will probably be the first one's to hear from Dave and me considering where we plan to land.   
TG: well i can do that!   
TT: It's almost time for Dave to get home.   
TG: go take ur walk dirk   
TG: i kno thats important n shit   
TT: Wipe your end too?   
TG: u got it boss

She did her best to help you cover your tracks, but you were always afraid it didn't really matter. You checked for keystroke viruses, you checked for monitoring software, but you felt like coding was just one more thing you would never be able to catch up to him with. You wiped all evidence of your chat with Roxy anyway, saving your projects before putting the desktop to sleep. When you spun around in your chair you were only mildly surprised to see who was waiting for you.  
He tried to be home to help you do your walk through the apartment, and now that Dave was in high-school and you walked to meet him halfway he'd walk with you too. It was comforting, though you'd never tell him that. He smiled at you, and it was nice he never expected anything more than the nod back you gave him as you got up to take your walk.  
The walks were easier with him. You still moved as quietly as you could, but you knew if you missed something he wouldn't. He wouldn't let you or Dave get hurt. And you didn't have to risk pressing yourself against Bro's door anymore, he'd disappear into his room and come back out with a solemn nod or jovial shake of his head to let you know where you stood vis a vis Bro. It felt like cheating almost but…  
You were creeping around the futon (the same shitty futon even years later) when John shot across the room in a panic. Turning your head, Lil' Cal was sitting on the futon where he wasn't before. You sighed.  
Neither you or Dave really liked Cal, though you would admit to maybe a sort of Stockholm Syndrome-like fondness for him. But John? John loathed Lil' Cal and refused to explain why. You paused in front of the TV, watching John float carefully back from the kitchen, scooping Cal up in his windy powers and spiriting him away. Back to Bro's room, he always told you. He had threatened to burn him once and you had a full on panic induced meltdown, banging your head against the floor as you rocked back and forth strung out with fear. So always back to Bro's room. John promised.  
"Well, he isn't home."  
You nodded, picking your way through the traps slowly. The door, the fridge, the cupboards. The traps were more intricate than before, took you longer to disarm. Sometimes it was just easier to set them off and stand back. It's how you lost the blender and ruined the garbage disposal a while back, and neither had been fixed or replaced. You met him at Bro's door, looking up to where he floated in the air scanning the room for anything missed. A brief nod and you let out the breath you were holding.  
"It's all good!" He smiled brightly and bobbed in the air once before stretching his legs and landing on his feet. "You ready to go get Dave?"  
You held up one finger, running to get your shoes and your backpack in case you had to stop by the store for something on the way back. You and Dave typically ended up meeting up about a block away from a Dollar Store, and he'd tell you if he needed anything for school. You made sure you had your wallet and keys before heading back out to John and giving him the thumbs up.  
The elevator finally broke the summer before and the complex never bothered to fix it, so you took the stairs down by twos and threes. By the time you got to the first floor, John had disappeared, but when you opened the door onto the street he was standing at the bottom of the steps like he had been waiting there the whole time. He waved excitedly and you lept down the three steps in one go, landing neatly next to him.  
"C'mon!" He grabbed your hand and tugged and you did your best to hide the smile that was also tugging gently at the corner of your lips.  
You liked days like this, when he walked with you like a friend. Instead of his weird God jammies, he wore cargo shorts and a shirt with a like… chibi slimer on it? And sometimes he would hold your hand. And sometimes he wouldn't let go. Even when adults gave you both disapproving looks, even when the sidewalk wasn't busy and there was no risk of losing you in the crowd. It was nice to feel like you had a friend.  
He was chatting about some movie he wanted to see, something about a giant teddy bear that sounded crude. He really wanted you to watch the trailer, and you nodded absently. You might, it sounded like something Dave might like anyway. Mostly though, your thoughts were elsewhere.  
Ever since you asked him about aging and he showed you how he could change at will your mind had been obsessing with Gods again. It was the unfortunate thing about your brain, how it would grasp onto something and not let go until you had wrung every possible answer out of it. But you couldn’t just do that with this topic. John was an actual person, the answers had to do with his life, and whatever happened obviously hurt him in some way with how he would disappear at the slightest mention of the subject. It had occurred to you some weeks ago though that if you asked while you both were walking…. Well he couldn’t just disappear like that in front of a bunch of humans. He’d either have to talk to you or you guess pretend like you didn’t say anything at all, and it felt mean backing him into the corner like that.  
“Diiiirk!” You must have spaced out harder than you thought, because he was looking at you with that sort of amused look he gave you when you probably agreed to something stupid. “You looked pretty focused, what were you thinking about?”  
You stopped at a corner, hitting the button and waiting for the walk signal to cross the street. You were at the edge of the district for the highschool Dave went to and didn’t normally have extra money for the bus, so it would be a several blocks yet until you’d see him. You had time to have this conversation, but that also meant you had time to piss him off. The pedestrian light flicked on and he swung your hand as he led you across the street, waiting patiently for you to reply. You looked around and carefully tried your voice.  
“It’s a question. But probably not a very nice one.” you spoke quietly, looking at the ground instead of his face. You could imagine it, that deadly curiosity that you know you’ve tempted him into; he squeezed your hand again.  
“Ooookay. Well now I gotta know, you know that!” You grimaced, putting one foot in front of the other as you weighed your options. Bringing it up at all felt like you already made your bed in this situation, but you could still conceivably say nothing at all. John would pester the hell out of you about it for a while, but you could live with that until he stopped. He’d never forget though, and a small feeling you couldn’t name even at age seventeen said that this conversation wasn’t one that you could run away from forever. At least he was always patient as you put your words together.  
“Would you… could you tell me about what happened with the Absent Gods?”  
You could feel his mood change in a tangible way, a harsh wind cutting down the street and ruffling your hair, biting at your skin. Peeking up at his face it was stony, his eyes that gray storm cold, but he didn’t let go of your hand. He was still there. This was cruel, guilt curled up your chest like a vine, kudzu wrapping around your lungs and squeezing. You opened your mouth with every intention of apologizing, telling him it was fine and to forget it, but he was answering you before you could get a word out.  
“What do you want to know?” His voice was icey yet cheerful, the hand he was squeezing aching from how tight his grip was. You felt the words trying to die in your throat so you forced them out before you lost the ability to speak at all.  
“You… were one.” you only got the words out by tightly controlling your tone, the question coming off more of a statement. It wasn’t really what you wanted to say anyway, you could still apologize, still back out. One of your knuckles popped and you didn’t make a sound, he was really strong.  
“Yup!” His pace was quickening, like maybe he thought he could outrun this conversation. You kept yours an even one though, making John almost drag you along to have you keep up. It was hard to find the words and go against every instinct to back out of this conversation that you had.  
“John, what happened?”  
He stopped abruptly at the corner, staring off into the middle distance silently. This was where he would pretend this never happened wasn’t it? You moved and pressed the crosswalk button again, jumping when his voice startled you out of your thoughts.  
“There was… a war of sorts I guess.” his voice had lost its edge, replaced with a sad, tired tone you’d only ever heard at the edges of stories before John would change the subject. “The ones who were punished were sent down to live on Earth for a while. They couldn’t act as Gods while down here, so…they were absent from their temples. Absent Gods.”  
The light changed and this time it was you who was tugging John across the street, only looking back long enough to give him a little nod to show you were listening. Your heart beat heavily, John had not said plainly that he was an Absent God, but the things he left unspoken, the quiet things left between the lines of stories he said previously made it pretty clear. He had been on the wrong side of a war. A war among the Gods. The implications of this were clear, the fact you were probably the only human who knew about it weighed heavy on your mind. You had expected John to stop with the bare minimum, but now that he had started it seemed like the dam was open and the flood unstoppable.  
“And the worst thing was they were right! There was… there was a breach in our security, he said that someone among us was responsible and-” he looked at you and his eyes were wild with grief, you felt like you were in the thick of a hurricane walking along the boiling Texan sidewalk. “They’re still being punished! It’s so stupid, we’re weaker now than we were then and now we know they were right! And the humans are scared and it only makes us weaker…”  
He stopped you on the sidewalk again, pulling his hand away from yours and rubbing his eyes vigorously. When he spoke again his voice sounded thick and wet with emotion.  
“We lost people in that war. It wasn’t their fault, but they blame them and…” he hiccuped, and guilt twisted deep within you. Your heart felt tight, like it would explode and shatter into a million pieces right where you stood.  
“Gods… can die?” you felt like you were balancing on a tightrope with this conversation, John’s emotions seemed unstable, fluctuating intensely with grief? Guilt? You could hardly get out words and what words you had were flat and hard, not what someone like John needed right now. And even if you could offer it, would it be right coming from you? When you manipulated John into this conversation, set it up so he had nowhere to run?  
“We don’t know if they can come back from this. We’ve never had Gods die at the hand of other Gods.” John’s voice cracked and he wrapped his arms around himself. You did this. You. That meant you had to fix it.  
You took one step forward, then another, wrapping your arms around him. It was awkward for a moment, he didn’t move other than the slight shaking as silent sobs wracked his body. Eventually though, John slowly unfurled from himself and wrapped his arms around you in kind. His head was buried in your neck, you could feel tears and hot breath on your skin.  
You both stood like that for a couple minutes, and though John didn’t seem to care you were aware of the eyes of every person who passed you by. Eventually though, he pulled away and raised his gaze to meet yours.  
You wanted to apologize, to say anything to soothe away the pain, but your voice wouldn’t come. Instead, you took his hand in yours again and squeezed gently. You walked to meet Dave in silence.

You had gotten your GED at age sixteen, it made making money easier. You had always been wildly ahead in your work, even hacking the online school website to get more work when your teachers tried to keep it from you and make you stay in pace with the rest of the class. So it didn’t matter.  
It didn’t mean you didn’t have other things to do now though. After the whole tablet fiasco some years before your carefully planned finances had been upended again. Bro stopped bringing food in for you and Dave altogether, the money sometimes left to replace or repair things for you both disappeared too. Then he gave you the old pick-up, but that came with maintenance and insurance, the latter not being something you could spare money for until recently. You’d need it to drive cross country after all.  
So you’d have to leave the house sometimes, despite how poorly you did in public. It was easier with Dave or John, but they couldn’t always be around. And it frustrated you, why couldn’t you just go grocery shopping without having to shower for hours when you got home? Why couldn’t you go get oil for the car without getting stared at because you couldn’t stop mumbling to yourself, or you couldn’t talk. Why couldn’t you just go to the courthouse to turn in your paperwork without it being such a big thing?  
You walked up the stairs to your apartment with several bags of dollar store food, beating yourself over it. It was a day when John couldn’t be around, off doing God things, so it left you alone with your thoughts. Some days it was easy enough to just think about the projects you wanted to work on, you had some ideas you wanted to map out for an AI for instance, but it was getting harder and harder with your planned D-Day drawing closer and closer.  
One flight of stairs: you were thinking about Dave being taken by CPS. You were so confident when you told him, but could you really get him back?  
Two flights of stairs: you were supposed to go to a courthouse with an adult to get emancipated, you were only hoping that the obvious abuse would help you get the resources you needed. Would they really throw a seventeen year old into the foster care system?  
Three, four flights of stairs: would Bro really let you go?  
Five, six, seven: could you even get away if you made it out?  
Eight, nine: your heart was pounding so hard, the air was too hot and the sound of your footsteps in the empty stairwell made you want to tear your skin off.  
Ten, eleven, twelve: you waited out your panic attack in a corner on a landing. Your neighbors from the top floor passed you and you could hear them talking about “the poor retard being out of his head again.”  
When you finally stood in front of the apartment door on floor thirteen you felt like you were standing in your own grave. Your skin still crawled from overstimulation, and you were tired. So tired. And you had to leave soon to meet Dave, you were already running late and you wouldn’t be meeting him in the normal place. At the rate you were going he would be a full block farther, and the change would probably bug you until you slept that night. So you had to go inside, you had to put away the food in the closet. You couldn’t just stand at the door like a coward.  
But you swore, you swore you could hear laughing.  
The door creaked when you opened it, a coffin yawning before you. It closed too loudly, the laughing was quiet and distant. Hee hee hoo hoo. It was muffled, six feet of dirt far away.  
The apartment shifted in front of your vision, all lining up in perfect clarity as your heart pounded. The door to your room was open, it had been closed when you left. You could hear movement, things being thrown and broken, papers shuffling and tearing and desk drawers being opened and slammed shut.  
The emancipation papers. You never gave them back to John.  
You don’t remember moving but you were at your bedroom door in a split second, the bags of groceries dropping at your side and the canned veggies skittering and rolling off under a bed. Bro stood in the middle of a disaster zone, what was once your meticulously clean and organized space. He was staring, you assumed reading but it wasn’t entirely possible to confirm with his shades and blank expression, at a piece of paper.  
You had your sword, you don’t remember grabbing at it but it was a comfortable weight in your hands. Alarms were blaring in your head, your face was flat like the orange soda you had saved under your bed. Bro didn’t have to look at you, but he knew you were there as he slowly, deliberately tore your chance at freedom in half.  
Would Bro really let you go?  
Could you even make it out?  
If you thought he had given you his all before, you were wrong. The speed with which he moved was inhuman, the strength with which he swung his sword unreal. You barely blocked in time, and it was at the price of your sword breaking in half pretty dramatically. You were screwed.  
You flash stepped like your life depended on it, because it just might have. You almost slammed yourself into the door frame, you almost face planted on the stairs to the roof, you could feel him on you like a devil on your back. You had picked up another sword on the way out, but you didn’t know if you had the time or space to use it as you skidded onto the gravel roof.  
And thinking about it, maybe the roof was a bad idea. You had more room to fight, run, but you were cornered. No one could see you both, but that was a curse as much as a blessing. He didn’t give you the chance to go on the offensive, you barely stayed out of his reach, always blessedly a half step and jump ahead. But how long could it go on for?  
You don’t know how long it lasted, your muscles were screaming, your breath ragged. You were supposed to meet Dave, how far away from home was he? This had to end.  
It had to end.  
You flipped around, trying to use his momentum to have him run straight into your blade. He was so fast though, how was he so fast? And despite his speed you saw the blade coming at you in slow motion.  
It hurt. You couldn’t breathe and it hurt. You don’t remember falling to the ground, all you could feel was the strange bubbling in your chest and the bright light in your eyes. You were dying.  
 _Do you see now? You are the monster. Look what you’ve done to him. Dirk, perfect Dirk._  
Bro’s silhouette slowly became clear before you, on his face a look you never had seen before. Horror, fear, disgust, guilt. You reached towards him, hand shaking. You heard something soft hit the ground and he was gone.  
You wanted to scream, cry, but your chest ached. You were drowning, you couldn’t even call for help. Black crawled into the edge of your vision, and in one last desperate attempt you gathered up all your scattered thoughts and focused on…  
John was floating above you, terror written plain on his face. You let yourself fall into the darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

Everything was bright when you woke up. It was bright and it hurt like a fucking bitch. You tried to roll over, cover your face, but your limbs felt like they were moving through molasses and a firm hand moved to still you. 

“Calm down Dirk, you’re still connected to your human body. You’ll hurt yourself if you move too much.” John’s voice was like a soothing balm and you began to sink back down into the darkness, but a disturbing thought… no, memory? Flickered sharply into your mind. 

You were supposed to be dead. 

Your eyes snapped open again and you wanted to scream but all that would come is a breathy scratchiness. John’s hands were on your shoulders pulling you back onto his lap, gently shushing you as the rest of the world became clear to you. 

Why the hell were you wearing puffy pink pajamas?

“John, you better have a good reason to be calling us- Is that Dirk?”

“Hey Karkat! Yah, I uh, well everyone’s coming right?”

The man who stood in front of you and John was short and broad, and something about his face felt so,  _ so  _ familiar to you. And maybe it should be familiar, the grey skin, the candy corn horns, he was from the one of the Pantheons. It could have been as simple as that, but something in the back of your mind felt like it was coming loose; if you could keep your thoughts together you wanted to find it, pick it free to examine it and find where it fit. Your brain fixated on the symbol on his chest instead, dumping information about Gods and Goddesses into your mind, a comforting blanket, and you could feel yourself actively start zoning out before a sharp turn in the conversation brought you back out.

“If he’s dying you need to let him die so he can continue his punishment.” This wasn’t the same person who was talking before, though he looked strikingly similar. Taller, thinner, looked a lot more annoying to be honest. 

“ But I-” John sounded desperate, holding onto you with a death grip, “Please, we’ve been compromised, can’t you just-”

“Redglare, can you please tell him how ridiculous he’s being?” Karkat seemed to be glaring at the man speaking, but your attention was diverted by a short yet imposing woman walking into your line of sight. You didn’t know if it was her silhouette or demeanor, her horns as sharp as her cane, and her cane as sharp as her smile, but she demanded the attention of the group of deities that seemed to be growing around you and John. 

“Actually Kankri, I think if you bothered to listen to our friend here you might find he has a compelling case. At least let him bring evidence before the court.” The other God, Kankri you supposed, seemed to shrink before her. He had conceded without any argument, and now a curious murmur spread through the crowd of faces. Faces that looked so familiar and your head spun and your stomach churned. You could hardly move, your neck felt like it was on fire, but you turned to look at John anyway. Anything to get away from that sickening feeling that you were going to crack open, split into a million pieces. 

But John was holding Cal. 

You croaked in panic, but you could hardly be heard over the cacophony of shouting and yelling that rose from the crowd. You struggled against John’s free hand on your shoulder, against your own body. This was bad, if Cal was gone Dave was in danger. Dave, Dave who was supposed to be coming home from school. Where was Dave? He wasn’t safe, you felt like you were screaming but nothing but a hiss of air came out. Cal was taken away by someone, and far away you could hear someone trying to calm the crowd. Your attention meanwhile was taken by John and another very familiar face you couldn't place. 

“Dirk, please…”

“John, if he doesn’t stop panicking there’s a chance he could splinter again. I know you’re doing your best to keep him alive here and on Earth but…”

“Jane, he can’t die. I know… I know he’ll just be a God again but he’ll hold it against me if Dave is left down there alone.” 

The young woman who was sitting on her knees next to you looked at you so warmly, sadly. It made you want to cry, something deep inside you said that you never wanted to see her like that. Desperate thoughts whirled through your head, John had said something significant about you after all, and Lil’ Cal… 

But her soft hand reached up to smooth itself through your locs and all those thoughts and the panic you felt knowing that Cal wasn’t where he belonged soothed away. She plucked your shades off and you couldn’t even bring yourself to care. 

“Dirk, hon, you gotta calm down.”

“Can you… can you fix him?” It was hard to tear your eyes away from Jane, you couldn’t place her but every time she touched you, directed that warm tone at you, it felt like things were shifting closer and closer to clarity. John though… it hurt to tilt your head back to look at him and he looked so sad. Those grey storm eyes were for you, and despite the panic that twisted just under the surface your heart dared to still flutter. 

"I… I would need approval before I healed him. It would go against his punishment." She sounded so regretful, so guilty, so it shocked you to see John look so annoyed at her. You wanted to look at her again, see what was going on, but it was too much. 

“ You told me you regretted not being on our side, now you won’t even help him?” You could hear sniffling beside you and you felt indignant, you wanted to scold John for making her cry. 

“Jane!” another voice, was this one you heard before? Time was slippery and it was all you could do to focus on John’s face while the hectic buzz of too many people slid over you and made your skin crawl. “Would you be able to get Callie?”

You didn’t know who they were talking about, but Jane’s lingering hand slid out of your hair and you tried to let out a whine, you hadn’t realized how simply her presence had anchored you there until you were set adrift again with only John as your last tether. 

  
  


“Dave’s doing okay.” You hadn’t realized you had drifted off again until John’s voice brought you back, “ I checked on him, he’s going to the hospital they’re taking you to.”

How much time had passed? It had seemed that you had been laying here immobile for so long, but they were still taking you to the hospital? And it couldn’t have been that long because everyone had been implying you were still alive, that you were still connected to your body. Your confusion must have shown because one of John’s hands found the curve of your jaw, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. 

“Time passes differently here, it’s okay. We still have time.” Gentle, he was so gentle. You wanted to sleep again, it was easier that way. The slippery time, the snippets of conversation were so much. You were safe here, with John. John only ever wanted to protect you. 

You didn’t get that far though, one of the voices became clearer, coming closer with a small group of the people who had surrounded you before. Jane and Karkat, their familiar faces with those fleeting, familiar feelings, led the way with a striking and strange young woman between them. Her voice was clear, cutting through the sleepy fog of your mind like a bright light through a clouded sky. 

“Let me see him.” she became a shadow over you and John shifted you up, closer to a sitting position than where you were comfortably laying on his lap. You were leaning heavily against him, your back to his chest and your head lolled onto his shoulder. It hurt, felt loose in a way it wasn’t supposed to. John supported it with one hand, and it disturbed you as it finally occurred to you why. 

“What a mess, poor Dirk.” thin skin stretched over large teeth as she frowned, one claw reaching out and running gently along the unnatural seam in your neck. You shuddered, you had almost forgotten the pain in your haziness but it was back, sharp and clear. Closing your eyes, red and blue flashed against the inside of your lids, paramedics were leaning over you marveling how you were still breathing against all odds. You could still feel John against your back, breathing with you and-

“Dirk stop, stop!” you jolted back and everything was in double. Double Jane was sitting in front of you, hands on your chest as a glowing warmth poured through you and slowly, ever so slowly things slid back to where they were supposed to be.

“Hmmm.” The strange goddess was still standing behind Jane and she was eyeing you carefully. Other deities looked horrified in your peripherals. “Show me the doll.”

When Cal was passed back into your vision you found yourself helpless before the panic again. You hated this, hated how every moment was a new overwhelming emotion you couldn’t keep up with. How time kept escaping. How your head hurt with things you couldn’t quite remember and-

A wash of pale blue and warmth over you again. You hadn’t realized you had been straining against John until you collapsed back against his chest. You felt like you were coming apart at the seams. 

“Well, this is his Juju. I think anyway, we really aren’t supposed to see each other’s.” she sighed deeply, turning Lil’ Cal over and over in her hands. Karkat spoke first.

“What does that mean? John was saying that it was always around, especially around their Bro.” You didn’t remember John saying that, but you also had to remind yourself you couldn’t account for all the time you had been here. It felt embarrassing, what else could John have shared? It may not have mattered anyway, they were all staring at you in your half dead glory anyhow.

“He was always especially… interested… in Dirk and Broderick. If you recall, it was how they found out about the… how do you all call it? The security breach?” her eyes looked sad but it was hard for you to tell. Humans were hard enough to read, and not only was she nearly skeletal, looking at her too long made things slippery again. “ He and Roxy were the only ones out of all of you willing to keep an eye on us - yes, I knew you all asked them to - and then he got… attached to Dirk you could say.”

He? Who was he? Why did she keep staring at Lil’ Cal like that? What were you  _ missing? _ It felt like your mind brushed against something, someone looking so much like this woman sitting next to you drawing furiously on a pad of paper. Except his eyes were red, as well as the spirals on his cheeks. He seemed so angry, but a soft touch of affection warmed you and-

Something in your mind felt like it slipped, your neck was on fire and you wanted to claw your skin off. 

“Dirk, stop! Stop you can’t remember, stop trying to remember!” 

“He’s gonna splinter, oh shit. Jane, please just heal him, please!”

“I can’t!”

A boney hand and gentle claws caught your chin and you hadn’t realized that you were essentially seizing until your whole body relaxed, crumpling back against John. Your brain was grasping for straws of control, and spat out special interest instead. 

Calliope, the Old One. One side of the inevitable coin, the light in the darkness. She gave humans the gift of story and song, love and family. She was responsible for half of the aspects and half of the Guardians, the first God’s in existence. 

“Jujus are very powerful magical objects, they hold our will as much as we are beholden to them. Prolonged contact, especially as a human, can have debilitating effects." Her voice was almost a croon as she spoke, largely to those around you, but somehow more intimately to you. What she said meant nothing to you, you could barely keep up. John said if you'd die you'd be a God (again?). Callie said something about you and Bro finding out about the "breach" that started the war. They all kept worrying about you...splintering? All these things seemed so important but it all kept slipping away as soon as you tried to focus on one. 

"I can see he's been affected by it, there are holes in his soul, soft spots. But nothing that can't be healed with ample time separated.”

“But how could this have happened in the first place? And what do we do with it?” Karkat finally asked. It felt weird to you that he had managed to stay quiet for so long, but you tried not to hold onto it. You weren’t supposed to remember after all.

“As far as what we are supposed to do with the Juju, it would be easier if Roxy was here.” Her voice sounded a little sharp, and her hand finally released your face as she moved back from where she had been studying you. “ I will take it and hide it, I will seek assistance if and when I need it. You, after all, have been compromised.”

If the group that had been standing back watching had been silent before, it was a heavy weight now. The reminder that this was all because they hadn’t listened. Hadn’t listened… to you? You groaned as flickers of memory, John crying on a sidewalk in Texas as he explained how it  _ wasn’t fair _ . You barely managed to keep yourself together, pull yourself back into the conversation before John could notice you were slipping again.

“We need to stop the punishments. This is… we are in danger.” Karkat pressed on, his voice sounding harsher, more insistent. A murmur washed through the group, what seemed to be a mix of agreement and dissent. “ Who was even supposed to be keeping an eye on the Striders?! I know it wasn’t me, I was essentially banned from going anywhere near them while on Earth!”

“No. Absolutely not.” Kankri again, his voice now stern and condescending. Gods, you barely could comprehend what was going on but you already had a strong feeling this God was not one you particularly cared for. “Karkat, we lost  _ Signless _ because of them, how could you even consider it?”

“But they didn’t kill anyone! And look around us, look who didn’t show up when John called for an emergency! Do you think it’s a coincidence it’s only those known to have blood on their hands?” his voice was getting louder, ringing in your ears. It tugged at the edges of your vision, pulled at your mind; you tried to ignore it. “And what about Sollux? Mituna? They stood behind them the whole time and never got punished. Or me? I got called back early because what? John and his dad were gone and people kept looking for someone to make decisions? Because it had to be me?”

"This is only because of Dave, we can't just break rules just because of-"

"It is not!" Karkat's voice was almost a roar, the ringing growing louder. You wouldn't be able to keep yourself together for much longer at this rate. "What about the Harleys? The Englishs? You all put them on an island because you said they were too  _ dangerous,  _ too  _ powerful, _ do we know if they're safe? We've been  _ compromised, _ Kankri!"

It was all too much, a strangled whimper escaped you and your vision was blurry. You wanted to hold onto this, but when your vision doubled and it felt like your head was splitting you finally let yourself fade away.

  
  


You almost thought it was a memory.

"John, it will be okay to leave him. Tavros has agreed to help keep him stable, Karkat will be keeping an eye on him." You felt like you were nine again, and you were standing with Dave in front of Bro and he was saying how good of a father he was.

"But Dad…" John's grip around you tightened, it was uncomfortable but you wouldn't complain even if you could. Seeing this man’s face sent you spinning and you once again found yourself wanting to just slip away. It was just easier that way. You had wanted answers before this, but now all you wanted was it all to go away, the pain, the confusion, how the half answers led to more questions. 

“I got him John, they want to know more about what you saw while with the Striders on Earth. I’m apparently “too invested” to have any say in what happens.” he sounded so bitter about it, and you might be too if you were in his place. “ And they sent Nepeta and Meulin down to find Bro, bring him back. Hopefully Callie will be able to tell us if he’s uh… fixable.”

“Why can’t they just do it here?” John’s voice was pitched in a whine and the older man, Mr. Egbert, your brain supplied, looked a bit worried at the mention of your Bro. 

“We just had to watch Dirk almost splinter two? Three times? John it isn’t a good idea if you really want to give him a chance to go back to Dave.” Karkat’s voice was rough but gentle, and you felt John relax his grip on you. He and who you assumed was his Dad, if your memory served correctly, carefully sat you up while he and Karkat traded places. You grimaced and grunted and John fussed over you, supporting your head carefully as he laid you back on Karkat’s lap. 

“I’ll be back, Dirk, I’m so sorry.” he lingered a moment, a pensive look on his face, before walking off to join the group of other God’s just barely out of good listening distance. It left you staring blankly at Karkat’s face.

There was a brief, yet very awkward silence as he seemed to try and figure out what to do with his hands. John had his in your dreads, on your shoulders, supporting your neck, but whoever this man had potentially been to you he did not seem nearly as comfortable with you. He finally settled them on the ground at his side. You considered letting yourself drift off again, it seemed that you weren’t especially needed for this anyway and it would soothe that painful itch that was building up over the lack of control over the situation. That plan was cut off though when Karkat spoke softly, coaxing your eyes back open to meet his. 

“How’s Dave doing? On Earth I mean. I mean I guess you don’t remember what it was like here, and this isn’t really a good example. We couldn’t even go somewhere with a bed, really? Just letting John cradle you here on the ground? I swear it’s better, and you’ll remember soon enough. Well, I mean, by our standard of time anyway.” he rambled on a bit, his voice a little louder than you preferred but not so much that it was building up that buzzing energy. That, and it was a little calming. He run on a lot like Dave did. And boy, you wished you could talk. Because Dave? You could talk about Dave. You loved talking about Dave. You knew everything about Dave.

He seemed to stop after a long stretch, looking at you with a bit of a surprised look on his face like he had just realized something strange. You blinked at him a little lazily, a little quizzically, it’s not like you could do much else with how much pain you were in, how little you could keep your thoughts together.

“Did… did John not tell you?” You blinked again, “ I thought you were just being quiet because you used to get like that when all of us got together… you always were cool to talk about what you and Dave were up to though.”

He was right, and you’d kill to just get your mind off all this and just think about getting back to Dave. You wondered if you were still going to the hospital, or if you were already there? Was Dave already there? Would he be questioned by the police? Taken by CPS? You couldn’t express this outside of a pretty painful grunt and deliberate blink though.

“Gods, John’s so stupid. Okay uh… think at me specifically. Like… like praying almost. But it’s not, because we’re Gods and it’s more natural to us.” Like pray at him? While he was right there? You guess… that made sense. If it could work in a whole separate plane of reality away, it would logically work like this. 

_ Hey? _

“There you go, hey Dirk.” his laugh was deep and warm, and it was comforting in a way you couldn’t pin. But right, no remembering. “You used to talk this way all the time, it was really annoying. But I guess humans have words for why you couldn’t always talk huh? They’re pretty clever like that.”

_ I don’t know. I mostly just had Dave. And then John I guess.  _

Karkat looked concerned when you said that, and you could see him flick back and forth between a couple options in his mind before what he said next. 

“Yah, Dave. Tell me about Dave.”

_ He’s doing really well in high school, got into an advanced math class this year. He still does fuck all in PE, but is really digging his art class. He hides all his pictures, but he’s doing stuff outside of his totally cool and ironic comics and it looks killer... _

Karkat seemed to soften as you spoke? Thought? At him. His smile had a touch of knowing about it, and he relaxed as you rambled on about one of your favorite things in the whole wide world, your little brother. You recognized that look on his face, as rare a thing that was, and you felt safe. You closed your eyes and relaxed on his lap. Yah, Love. 

You were going to tell him more, tell him everything about Dave you could. How he trusted you so completely and how you didn’t deserve it. How you had been teaching him how to drive in the old Kmart parking lot that closed last year and he was getting so good. How he was gonna help with the driving up to New York and how it was a surprise but you had put aside just a little bit of money so you both could pig out on Doritos and Apple Juice and Orange Soda the whole ride there. How his music was fantastic but he was still working on his meter and rhyme with his raps, but he was getting there. You were going to tell him it all but a loud explosion of voices from the nearby group interrupted you, causing you to jump and fuck, your neck. You squeezed your eyes close again and you could feel hot tears roll down your cheek.

“What do you mean it was the  _ Makaras  _ who were supposed to check in on them!” A harsh wind whipped by, stinging your face and kicking up a cloud of pastel colors around you. Karkat leaned over you as if to protect you from the elemental rage, though you knew John would never hurt you. Several voices from the group got louder too, though not loud enough to pick up what they were saying as you could with John. Whatever they were saying though only seemed to enrage him more. 

“They were the  _ first ones _ suspected of being compromised, even after we all found out Dirk was right, you assigned them?! And have any of you even seen them? And fuck,  _ Muelin is dating Kurloz, you sent her after him!” _ The sky around you began to dim, the light turning a sickening green. “If it wasn’t becoming more and more obvious what's been happening, I’d accuse you of being in on this Kankri! But no, you’re just a selfish, petty man!”

The wind was howling, this was the angriest you’d ever seen him and you couldn’t even see him. You twisted under Karkat’s weight, he was still trying his best to shield you from the worst of the brewing storm. You suppose you couldn’t remember, but he might still know how bad John could get. 

“Dirk, Dave, they didn’t kill them! Didn’t kill  _ anyone!  _ We didn’t lose Signless because of them,  _ The Condesce killed him. _ If what the Captors said is true the war was inevitable, they just made sure more of us didn’t die! And you still blame them! One  _ hundred _ lives to live on Earth, more than anyone else!” A crack of lightning streaked through the sky, a roll of thunder following. You could feel the light tip tap of rain on your legs, because the stupid soft pajamas you appeared in only went down to your knees. 

“Callie,” Karkat’s voice could hardly be heard above the storm, and you wondered how John could be heard so clearly, “ Is there anything you could do to stop him?” 

He sounded panicked, his hands holding desperately onto your shirt as he hunkered down over your prone body. All you could see was the dark brown of the shirt on his chest, and the eerie horror movie lighting if you peeked out from under one of his arms. It was cold though, and the wind bit hard where he couldn’t cover your skin. You wondered what chaos he was causing to make Karkat sound so worried. You couldn’t hear what she said in response, but you could feel Karkat press his wet face into your stomach. 

**“John, that’s quite enough.”**

The voice boomed in a similar way Karkat’s had when he was getting wound up, but it was much more controlled, a lot more demanding. The wind still blew, the cold rain still hit your skin, but you recognized the despairing silence that followed Mr. Egbert’s command. John was hurting, once again you felt so helpless. 

You couldn’t tell if it took minutes or hours, but Karkat slowly sat up again as the storm calmed, the wind still blowing roughly but no longer burning your cheeks, the rain a fine mist. It hurt as you turned your head towards the group of God’s but you were near desperate to see John. 

His Dad’s arms were wrapped around him, John’s shoulders shaking hard as he sobbed into his button up. Memories bumped and collided in your head, and you did your best to ignore them, ignore how when things got tense this time you had managed to not almost split. You just tried to focus on John. Oh, John. He had been holding back so much for you.

“We shall vote.” Mr. Egbert’s voice was firm, not leaving any room for questions. “ Those who are not here have forfeited their right to a say in this. The first vote is to repeal all punishments that are still in effect and bring everyone back home at the end of their current human life. Those for, please raise your hand.”

You could feel Karkat let go of your shirt and raise one hand, and in front of you, you watched many other Gods and Goddesses do the same. Though there were those who didn’t agree, the majority voted in (your) favor. You watched Mr. Egbert count the vote and nod, one arm still around John, who had raised a hand and rested it against his father’s chest.

“The next thing to vote on,” he skipped past announcing the obvious and onto the next topic, “Is to heal Dirk Strider’s human body and let him finish living out this life with his brother, Dave Strider. Those who are for, raise your hand please.”

And you had to close your eyes, it was too much to watch. You were still so scared for Dave, you don’t remember anyone saying anything about Bro being found. He was still in danger, you just wanted to be there with him again. You felt Karkat move to raise his hand again and would have held your breath if your breathing wasn’t being regulated by someone else. 

“The verdict is in favor of ending the punishments and…” you felt like you were going pop with tension, exhaustion from everything you’d experienced, “ in favor, of letting Dirk go back to Earth with Dave.”

Talking immediately picked up again, some voices very angry and other’s cheering. You think you heard Jane hooting away and it lifted your heart. When you opened your eyes again you found Karkat grinning down at you, and he moved his hand to your chest.

“Before… before they get Jane and Feferi to come help I…” he looked a little giddy, a little mischievous, like he was going to be sneaky and maybe he wasn’t used to having to be that way, “ You are going to want to remember some of this. I am not a Mind Aspect, but with your Aspect and mine together I can…”

A warm wash of red crawled from his hands and seeped into your skin. And you could feel it, the ties that the Blood Aspect pulled at, mingling with an overwhelming glow you never knew was tucked away inside you. 

“Blood is about connections to each other and Heart is very much about the self. Together, these Aspects speak to the relationships between yourself and others and I can…” he had closed his eyes and scrunched his face up like he was concentrating really hard. Something felt like it was being knitted together, ideas and thoughts connected to people and yourself, “There. I can connect memories to your connections with people. It should help you remember even if you forget everything else again.”

You didn’t know what to do with that, but you smiled just a little bit and did your best to focus on him.

_ Thanks. _

"No problem."

You could hear voices coming closer again, and your eyes flicked to the side to see a group of six deities approaching. John and his father were leading the way, Jane and a Goddess with long horns and pink eyes only a step behind. Bringing up the rear were two tall gangly Gods with double horns and strange eyes. Looking at the taller one made your brain do that slippery thing again, and he perked up when he noticed that you were focusing on him and pushed past the rest of the group to bound over to you. Collapsing next to you, you wished Jane hadn’t taken your shades; you felt absolutely vulnerable next to him, your heart speeding up in a way you’d only felt around John..

“Mituna, Mit he can’t remember you!” the rest of the group picked up speed, the one who had been with him floating up off the ground in a shower of blue and red sparks to catch up. “Be careful, they’re being  _ nice _ letting you see him, it’s dangerous.”

Mituna didn’t seem to be paying much mind to the worried scolding though, instead looking down at you through long curly bangs.

“I can make you feel  _ good _ , don’t worry.” his lisp sounded moist, and despite the crude innuendo what he said sounded so worried and sweet. Long fingers cupped your cheek, and instead of that electric painful fire, a warm and soothing thrill pinged your heart. Karkat, on the other hand, looked mortified to be trapped underneath you witnessing this. 

“Don’t worry, we are here for a reason.” the other God settled back onto the ground behind Karkat, looking down at him with a fondness that was mirrored in Mituna’s eyes on you. Your brain helpfully supplied that these would be the Twin Gods of Doom.

“And what would that be Sollux?” Karkat leaned back against the other’s legs as the other Gods finally caught up and began shuffling to find room around you. Mituna was making this harder, but he could not be moved from where he was stroking your face so gently, punctuating it occasionally with a light pap if you focused on one thing for too long. 

“Well…”Sollux tilted his head a bit to eye John carefully as Jane and the other Goddess settled at your side. Jane seemed to want Karkat to move so you would be on her lap, but he had either not noticed or didn’t care, “Fef and Jane will heal him, but healing a God like this is… tricky. There’s no guarantee that his human body will come together exactly right.”

John jolted up a little straighter at this, panic in his eyes. You thought he was going to shoo everyone else away and whisk you away into the wind again, but the firm hand of his father stayed him. You wanted to get a better look at him, but when you began shaking from the strain Mituna tilted your head back to look at him again. You could feel the burn and the pain in your nerves, but when he began to essentially pet you again it all seemed to wash away. Sollux continued. 

“I will be able to see if he’s going to die. That’s why I’m here. Mituna is here because… well.” with your head tilted up again you could see him more clearly, and he just kind of motioned at you both with his hand. “ But essentially, they’ll heal him as much as they can, then he stops being supported by John and Tavros and we see what happens.”

John looked horrified by this, Karkat somber. Jane and Fef, sad and nonplussed respectively. Mituna hardly seemed phased at all, continuing to pap and stroke your face and keeping you in that light, airy place. You supposed if he wasn’t you might have been a little more stressed at the idea of dying and leaving Dave on Earth alone, as it was you felt worried but like someone was there to take care of you. John looked like he was about to say something again, but Jane rested her hands over your heart and got a word in first. 

“We’re going to start now, okay?”Jane’s eyes were leveled with John’s, Fef took your hand in hers, smiling when she caught your sleepy eyes. John closed his mouth with a clack of his teeth and nodded numbly. 

In movies and books magical healing looked easy, nice. Maybe not clean, but certainly not painful. You could now say with certainty that healing, even from two powerful Goddesses, was probably almost just as bad as dieing. You could feel your trachea stitching back together, your larynx going from shreds to some semblance of normal. Your esophagus was a thing again, and you instinctively swallowed again to try and clear all these horrible feelings out of your throat. It felt strained, wildly uncomfortable and crunchy. 

“Do you think,” it was Feferi talking, her voice sounding a little strained and breathy, “ Soll, do you think we could get Aradia to mess with Time and line this up with… with whatever they’re gonna try to do to help him on Earth?”

You could feel the muscles in your neck reconnect, the painful itch of veins and arteries reforming. Was it weird that this wasn’t so bloody? Or is that why Karkat was there? You wished you could look at everyone around you, see what was going on, but your whole world was a wash of pastel pinks and blues, the only sensation that wasn’t pain the long spindly fingers gently caressing your temple. 

“I mean, Aradia was never really good at manipulating Time like that, that was more of a Dave thing…” Sollux sounded uncertain, but there was a crackle and pop and you assumed he had gone off to ask whoever Aradia was to do… whatever it was Feferi asked. Your skin pulled itself together at last, and you could feel scar tissue forming roughly where you were darned and mended. 

But it didn’t stop. It must have been exhausting, you could feel the sweat on Feferi’s palms, feel the shakiness where Jane leaned against your chest. It seemed to drag on forever until another pop and crackle disrupted the silence. 

“I was told you could use some help! I wouldn’ta left if I thought I’d be sent for so soon!” the new voice was irritatingly cheerful for how much pain you were in. If you didn’t feel like a limp pool of gelatine being microwaved by some pastel magic-core bullshit, you’d be doing your best to shoot the owner of said voice a look. As it was, you did feel like that, so you didn’t.

“Could you uh, move time up here to line it up with what… they’re doing in the hospital down there?” It was Jane this time, and you hated to hear the stress in her voice. You hated to do this to her. The comforting hands traced your browline gently. 

“Well, I can sure try!” And you wished someone would have warned you what that would feel like, because you immediately regretted having a throat again the minute it stopped. It took all you had to heave yourself out from under all the touching, overwhelming hands to vomit straight… onto Karkat’s leg. You heard sympathetic gagging, but no one else followed your lead. 

Jane’s hand was immediately back on you, holding your shoulder gently as you panted heavily. Mituna’s found its way to the back of your neck, rubbing soothingly. You felt shaky, but able to support yourself enough on one arm that Karkat could slip out from under you while he cursed about his ruined jammies (though he really didn’t seem upset at all.)

“He’s stable right now but… he’s still weak. I can’t make any promises that his human body will hold up once support’s taken away.” Jane was worried, the implications had been laid out before and they loomed dark over you. Even Mituna and his weird magic touches that blanked out your brain couldn’t smooth down the anxiety that rose in you then. 

“I…” John sounded small, far away. You opened your eyes to a world untinged by magic colors to find John looking so terribly frightened. “I can’t…”

“He won’t blame you if he dies John, he’ll wake up knowing you did the best you could.” Mr. Egbert’s voice, even when not aimed at you, was a balm to the anxiety you felt rising in you. Mituna’s hand was creeping around to the edge of your jaw again, pulling gently and insistently on your face so he had better access. You kept your eyes locked with John though and pulled all your soupy thoughts together to focus on him.

_ John, it’s okay. _

_ Do it. _

And John looked so pained, but you could feel his magic drop away. And for a moment it looked like it might be okay; you took one deep breath, then another. But as you started syncing up with your body on Earth pain shot through you. You felt like you were drowning again, the pain in your neck was searing. You gasped, it sounded wet in the worst way. You could see people moving and panicking, but all you could hear was one loud monotone note getting louder and closer. 

The world blipped to black. 

You liked the beach. Bro hadn't always been like... _ that _ , and one of the clearest memories of the Bro before  _ Bro _ was at a beach. 

You had to have been younger than Dave. Bro had started changing before Dave, but got significantly worse after him, so yah. Younger. But he would take you to the public beach in the evenings sometimes, and you'd walk along the pebbly shore with him until you were too tired to stay on your feet. Then he'd carry you, your head resting on his shoulder as he walked you back to the truck. You'd look out at the ocean and it felt lonely, but in the way that you were both alone together.

And that’s where you found yourself when you opened your eyes. Your body ached like you had been hit by a mack truck and you were just so,  _ so _ tired. The grey sky that was darkening to a deep somber blue didn’t help, neither did the soothing sound of the sea. You couldn’t catch the whispered thread of sleep though; a deep ache filled your chest and you felt like you were drowning all over again, this time with less blood. 

Why there? Why? You died, didn’t you deserve to make an exit stage left, pursued by bear? The bear being in this case a shitty anime sword and failed Godly intervention? You were done playing the main character; you didn’t want a set change, you wanted to bow out and fade out to the one lone audience member clapping sarcastically.

And it was just salt in the open neck wound. It was clearer than the memory in your head that had been worn down and softened like a picture after years of turning it over and over in your hands. The air was cold and salty, the pebbles under your skin colorful but dull until the water washed over them, then were soft pastels in the dimming light. If you reached out a hand you could even pick up a shell, smooth and silky soft from being rolled over and over in the sea. 

It hurt. You were alone, but this time you were truly, absolutely alone. No one to carry you home, and there hadn’t been for a very long time. 

You were seventeen, shouldn’t you be over this? You had spent most of your life without a father, why did it still hurt you that the man you knew just plain and simple didn’t exist anymore? That even the Gods and Goddesses themselves didn’t know if there was anything they could do? You could feel tears roll down your cheeks. Why did ending up on a beach from your childhood hurt more than your death?

You let yourself cry silently for you don’t know how long, your chest shaking as you could feel the tide crawl up and lap at your heels. Eventually it was just you, the perpetual sunset sky and the crummy feeling you got after crying though, and there wasn’t any point in wallowing in it all further. 

You pushed yourself up, musing over the fact that you were in the clothes you were wearing on Earth again. You also still didn’t have your memories, too bad that didn’t change with your death. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you were supposed to wake up a God again. Maybe it was just shit luck. At least you could keep your thoughts all sorted here, and you weren’t in pain anymore either. If you thought hard about it you could feel a dull throb in your neck, but you didn’t have to. You just brushed off your jeans and picked a direction to walk. 

You walked for a long time, or maybe a short time. Or maybe you hardly walked at all. But all of a sudden he was there.

It was easy to forget sometimes that Bro was a human being and not a monster made for you and Dave specifically. Like it was easy to think hey, maybe I'm actually in hell, but instead of having to roll a rock up the hill forever or being bound to a burning wheel or some shit it was just life with Bro. 

But actually, he wasn’t. He wasn’t human at all. And he was actually a monster, tailor made just for you. A creepy puppet was pulling the strings, making your life a true James Wan masterpiece. 

And it was a jagged thought when he turned to you in a silent surprise. For what felt like the first time Bro was clear before you, on his face a look you had seen now once before. Horror, fear, disgust, guilt. 

Grief. 

And instinct said you should have been afraid, that you had barely made it out alive the first time and he was back to finish the job. But the fear didn’t rise up. Your heart sank, but not dread. 

His shoulders were slack, one hand shoved in his pocket and the other reaching up and grabbing his cap awkwardly. You had never seen him so expressive, not even when you were little, and it made you wonder how long this had been really going on. If you ever really knew him at all.

“At least you ain’t for real dead.” his voice made you jump and you hardly suppressed the urge to scramble back out of the reach of a shitty sword that wasn’t there. He sounded so tired. 

A tilt of your head slightly, a silent question. You felt like you could maybe talk if you tried, but at the mention of your death your hand went to your neck, finding that raw and ragged scar. It was better not to try. The thought occurred to you that you could probably think at him, but he answered the unspoken question before you could try. 

“When you're dead here, your eyes go white. You still got pupils. For now at least.” his accent was thick and you wondered when that had changed. Somewhere along the line it had faded, and hearing it brought up that sorrow in your belly again. Made you want to cry. 

His eyes weren’t white either, though the warm amber was clouded over with a milky lens. You chewed your lip for a minute, waiting to get snapped at, but nothing came. Slowly, you raised your hand to touch your temple, right near your eye, before motioning to him. You were worried he wouldn’t understand, but he nodded slowly and it made you ache how he still knew. 

“I’ve had one foot in the grave for a long time kid, though I feel like I’ve been here more often than not lately.” and he was trying to look anywhere but you. At the sand, past your left ear, out at the ocean. The sadness churned like a storm inside you seeing him so unsure, so uncomfortable. It wasn’t like him, or maybe it was and you simply never had the chance to know. You looked away as well, clenching and unclenching your fists as you tried to keep it all at bay. 

“If it’s worth anything, I’m sorry.” and it just about broke you. You tried to blink away the mistiness in your eyes, you took a deep breath to try and hold in the sob. You tried everything, stilling yourself and becoming a statue as your whole soul seemed to wail in anguish. If he noticed he didn’t say, and he pressed on awkwardly, falteringly. 

“It was even real good the first couple go ‘rounds.” a traitorous tear found it’s way down your cheek and you were shaking like a leaf. He began to wring his hat in his hands as he tried to find all the words he couldn’t spare for you in life. “I won’t say I was ever a good parent, ‘cause I never was a parent at all. It ain’t how it was supposed to be up there, not for me. I guess the damned punishment taught me something after all, even if it wasn’t what they wanted.”

And finally, finally you found the will to use your words. And really you meant to think it at him, but when you pulled everything together the word spilled out of your mouth, scratchy and thin.

“Why?”

It was so painfully vague and open ended. It held every single why you could never get the answer to, every single desperate plea for him not to hurt you. To not hurt  _ Dave. _ Bro looked like you slapped him, and it hurt more to see it than it would have if he hadn’t cared at all. 

Why?

A long silence stretched out, the only noise was the ocean at your feet. You were seventeen, shouldn’t you be over this? You had spent most of your life without a father, why did it still hurt you that the man you never got to know was here now? That even the Gods and Goddesses themselves didn’t know if there was anything they could do, but that he was looking at you like you were a child again? You could feel hot tears roll down your cheeks. Why did finding out you still cared hurt more than your death?

“I… well Dirk there ain’t a good reason to give yah.” he met your eyes again seeming to search for something, you didn’t know. “Before life on Earth I couldn’t even say I ever cared for yah. I made you as a replacement, a better copy of me you could say, for when Earth didn’t need a God like me no more.”

A God like him? A copy? Your lips pursed and your brows furrowed and you rubbed the tears off your cheeks despite the fact they just kept coming. But as you turned all these little tidbits over and over, holding the new pieces spilled at your feet up to see where they fit, a thought occurred to you. 

“You…” your voice still was thin, still cracked, and you didn’t know if it was the wild feelings you couldn’t control or your near beheading. “You never intended to come back.”

The accusation and your sharp stare seemed to finally pin him. He stilled, and you could imagine stretching him out against a board like a butterfly to show you his true color and pattern. A beautiful, macabre sight; a pink soul full of holes glowing in his chest. His voice, everything about him was raw.

“ You and Dave would want me?”

And you think you would have been seeing double if you weren’t already somewhere in between life and death. It was that feeling of something barely being held together as it tried so hard to shatter apart in your chest. Sand rose up quickly to meet you and all too suddenly you found yourself on your hands and knees, bile in your throat and a loud noise ringing in your ears. You felt like you wanted to vomit, wanted to tear your heart out so you never had to feel like it was being broken again. It was all too much and you realized that the loud noise was you, wailing like a child.

“Hey now…” you hadn’t heard him get close to you, and you jumped when a warm, rough hand pressed down on your middle back. “Dirk, it was never meant to happen like this.”

He rubbed your back as gentle as he could manage and when your sobbing meltdown finally subsided, you found yourself being gathered up in his arms like a child. You were nearly as tall as him at that point, but he was still able to hook his arms under your ass like you were still just a child of nine to prop against his hip. 

“There, didn’t think that would work still.” and you were too tired to fight it, you rested your cheek on his shoulder and let him take over the situation. Your throat felt like you had just put it through a blender, and as he began to slowly walk down the beach you had just come from you gave in and let your eyes close. 

The walk down the endless beach was quiet, the only noise the ocean at his feet. You liked the beach. Bro hadn't always been like... _ that _ , and one of the clearest memories of the him before  _ Cal _ was at this beach. 

You maybe remembered a time without Cal, back when you didn’t have Dave. But he would take you to this beach in the evenings, and you'd walk along the pebbly shore picking up soft pastel pebbles and smooth, silky soft shells with him until you were too tired to stay on your feet. Then he'd carry you as the grey sky dipped into a deep, somber blue, your head resting on his shoulder as he walked you back to the truck. You'd look out at the ocean and it felt lonely, but in the way that you were both alone together.

"I remember when you'd bring me here." Your voice was almost a whisper but you knew he could hear you. He squeezed you gently, humming a soft question back. "I used to think about it a lot. Couldn't figure out why it stopped. Thought it was Dave."

He hummed again at your short, tired sentences. His silence should have scared you, but it felt right somehow. It was the calm, companionable silence that brought up memories of watching him play video games on his lap, or when he'd order you pizza with jalapeños and pineapples and anchovies for your birthday even though you were the only one who would eat it. It didn't erase all the hurt, but you were beginning to think it was the real him in those moments. The him before Cal took over.

"A lot of things changed when we got Dave. Cal wasn't happy." His voice sounded tight with emotion despite the fact he tried to hide it under a rougher tone, the tilt of his head away. " I couldn'ta known what that thing was doing to me, but I shoulda done better by you both. Even before we got sent to Earth. Maybe especially then."

It was your turn to hum, though this time it was encouraging him to continue. He shifted you against his side and you readjusted your face against the crook of his neck.

"Just…" he didn't stop moving but you could hear the reflection, the regret in his voice. "I didn't  _ like _ you Dirk. Not before all this. I tried to make you outa all best parts a me and I couldn't stand it."

It hurt to hear but he was still tense, his jaw still set like he had more to say. The words lingered and seeped into the cracks that still hurt, but you hummed again anyway. It reminded you of when you could talk even less, how you both would grunt at each other to get your point across. That was before swords were used to those ends. 

“But then when I hadta raise you, shit, that first time I was hardly 18 myself when I woke up on Earth and was handed you. And you were so fuckin’ tiny and all I could do was look into your eyes and think…” his voice cracked, the facade he tried to put up splintering the harder he tried to keep it together. 

“That’s what falling in love felt like.” because you knew. You remembered looking at tiny, fussy Dave with his red eyes and thinking the same thing. Bro laughed sadly. 

“Yah. Love.”

You ignored the warm, wet feeling on your forehead and scalp, instead balling your fists in his pollo shirt like it could get you any closer. You simply focused on the rhythm of Bro’s steps, the slowing pace of your own breathing. It was only when the movement stopped that you finally let your eyes flicker open. 

After such a long time being stuck on an endless beach it was surprising to see the scenery change. From where Bro stood holding you, you could see the wooden steps up the bluff to the parking lot. That old white truck was parking along the wooden gate at the edge. 

“Looks like it’s time for you to go home.” The echo of pain was still there, but his voice was softer, more tender than you ever believed it could be. He set you carefully down on your feet, letting you find your balance in the coarser sand as he walked with you up the beach towards the dunes and bluff. “Makes sense. You always slept well in the car.” 

You didn’t say anything at first, you didn’t know what there was to say after the time spent in this memory between living and death. When he stopped at the stairs you knew you had to say something, but when you turned around he beat you to the punch. 

“I’m proud of you, y’know. You tried so hard to do, be the right thing.” one of his hands rested against the rail, you stood on the first step trying to commit every detail of that moment to memory. “And I’m sorry. I truly am Dirk.”

“Will you come home?”

He looked away, out past the beach and out past the ocean. The sun had finally almost finished it’s slow descent behind the horizon, the night sky seemed filled with bubbles that looked almost like whole galaxies. 

“I got some folks to find, then I suppose we’ll see.”

You knew that was as good an answer as you were going to get, it was what you expected even, but it still hurt. Reaching out, you wrapped both of your arms firmly around Bro’s shoulders. If he wasn’t coming back, you were going to savor it. There was an awkward pause, but his arms found their way around you too. 

And you wish you could say it, you had the voice to even, but you couldn’t. Instead when he let you go, you looked at him hard one last time before turning to walk up the stairs. 

And despite the fact you couldn’t do it, you think you heard him say it to you as it all began to fade out to white. 


	5. Chapter 5

At first you couldn’t tell if it was your eyes or what, but when you woke up the room was dim and blurry. You couldn’t tell where you were, but you felt like you had been hit by a mack track and you were so, so tired. The grey shadows that flickered across the ceiling melted into a deeper somber blue, and even with the steady beep somewhere to your right setting the rhythm and time you couldn’t catch the whispered thread of sleep that seemed just out of reach. 

You tried to move to rub your eyes but that seemed to elicit several panicked beeps from the machines so you stilled yourself again. Your thoughts felt foggy and mushy, you could see all these obvious pieces to a plain and simple picture, but it all looked like nonsense. It was only when a shadow at the end of your bed moved that you could find the energy to focus, but that came with a spike in that beeping again and this time you didn’t know how to make it stop. 

“Dirk, Dirk it’s just me.” and your whole body relaxed, the beeping slowing once more to a familiar, steady rhythm. Dave, Dave. It seemed like it had been years since you’d seen Dave. You loved Dave. You missed him so much. You tried to blink the bleariness from your eyes as cool hands gently took your own. He looked exhausted, fear and anxiety etched into every feature. Your eyes focused on that faint scar on his cheek, silver in the evening light streaming in through the window; Dave was fourteen, he shouldn’t sound so tired. You wanted to reach out, to voice your concerns, but you couldn’t. 

"Shit man, you really scared us." His voice sounded tight with emotion, you wanted to say something but it was slowly dawning on you that there was something in your mouth, down your throat. You wanted to panic but Dave kept playing with your hand and it was keeping you calm." You got out of surgery, you wouldn't wake up. Roxy and Rose came down and everything. Didn't even tell their mom, Roxy just bought the first tickets to Houston she found."

And he was shaking, choking up on the last words. You couldn't find it in you to care about what he was saying,though you probably would later, you just wanted to hold him, comfort him like he used to let you when he was smaller. 

"Fuck, you probably don't even know what I'm talking about…" and you could tell he was ready to go off on a nervous ramble, so you weakly pulled your hand away. There was a little resistance, but he let you go.

Then you moved carefully, in painfull inches as you shuffled closer to the other side of the bed. When the arrangement was the best you could make it, you weakly turned towards the shadow of your brother and patted the space on the bed beside you. You didn't have to ask twice, he carefully climbed through all the wires and tubes hooked up to you and suctioned himself to your side like a particularly stubborn barnacle. 

You fell asleep to a cool, gentle breeze washing over your face.

When you woke up again the world was clear and bright. Your vision was still a little blurry, but as you blinked away the sleep things became sharp and coherent in a way they hadn’t felt for a long time.

The room you were in was white and with your head less fuzzy with sleep it was much more obviously a hospital room. To your right there was a window where bright light shined through and several machines, including a heart monitor that beeped the steady rhythm of your heart out in a comforting beat.

There was a whiteboard at the end of the bed with the date scribbled on it in red, as well as several doodles in pink of cats and wizards. It took you a minute, but you finally were able to pry the last date you remembered from your mind.

A week. It had been a week.

And that was jarring in itself, but more surprising was the sheer amount of flowers, cards and gifts that littered the room. On the tables, on some chairs, on the window sill. You didn't know who they could be from, you simply didn't have that many people who _cared_ about you. It was startling enough that you almost could put aside the discomfort of all the tubes and wires attached to you.

Because boy were you hooked up. The heart monitor, an IV, there was a tube down your throat and you didn't want to think about the line you could feel attached to your leg going up under the hospital gown. You weren't in any pain, but you could feel everything tug in the most uncomfortable way as you shifted your position in the bed. Distraction couldn't come soon enough.

And it came, in the form of Dave and a woman who looked _far_ too familiar coming in through the door to your room.

"Ah, looks like he's awake!" She was short and intimidating, you didn't know if it was her silhouette or demeanor, her voice as sharp as her cane, and her cane as sharp as her smile, but she demanded your attention all at once.

She looked so familiar you found your head spinning and your heart squeezing. You could hardly move, your whole body felt heavy and it felt like you were swimming in mollassass, but you desperately willed your body to comply, to turn to look at Dave. 

“The nurse said to call them when he woke up again.” Dave came to the edge of your bed, sitting where he had curled up with you the night before. He leaned over you a bit to press the call button on the opposite side of the bed, taking one of your hands when the light was on. You weakly squeezed it once, your eyes sweeping the room in a question. 

Dave followed your stare, glancing over all the gifts and cards cluttering every open space and smirking just a bit as he understood. 

“Glad to see you have your priorities in order.” The oh so familiar woman had a humored smile on as well, and though she obviously could not see she found a chair eerily quickly and settled herself in. You vaguely wondered if the chair was kept there for her or… or something else. A flicker of a memory flit through your brain, a string pulling at your heart; you wanted to turn internally to follow it, but Dave was talking again. “See, when you all up and started miraculously healing on the surgery table the Doctors started flipping out. Then someone blabbed to someone, it got to the Church of Life and voila. They think you’re some sort of prophet.”

And you scanned over the gifts again, this time taking in the colors and symbols reflected on the gifts. You had brushed it off before, the life symbol was common on things to do with healing, getting better, but it was more obvious now. The creams and greens; multiple small pots of different little white flowers, and peachy roses. It smelled strongly, and you were glad you weren’t allergic to flowers or you’d really regret having the tube down your throat. 

The only one that stood out was a small bowl nearer to your bed, the colors bright and vibrant blues and oranges. Something warm flickered through your chest. 

“Your friend came by with a bunch of folders.” Your eyes flicked back to Dave who also seemed to be staring at the small bowl of flowers. “ The one that you walk to pick me up with sometimes. It’s why Mrs. Pyrope is here to talk to you, though I don’t think we’ll be able to get very far until the nurses come.”

You nodded a bit, though the feeding tube made it uncomfortable. It was tempting to close your eyes, but Dave had _just said_ the nurses were coming to see you so it was probably best to stay awake. You tried to turn back to that little string that was tugging in your chest and in your mind and you pulled the idea closer, but before you could get a clear look at it Dave spoke up again. 

“I didn’t know you kept so much.” you felt weak again, there was that vulnerable note, that pained strain in his voice again. You were glad to see it there, it meant you did your job protecting him. “I… I didn’t know how much you were doing for me. Hiding.”

And you wanted to sigh, you could hear the heart monitor stutter as your chest tightened. You never wanted him to know, but he must have seen it all. The wounds you _didn’t_ let him help with, the receipts for all the work you did. The receipts for all the food and clothes you bought for him. You knew he always thought Bro was still a part of it all, and you would have been happy to just let him keep thinking that. 

Several nurses came in, and you were almost happy to see them. They shooed Dave and Mrs. Pyrope out saying they could come back soon; apparently they didn’t think it was a good idea to let Dave see them take the feeding tube out of you. You agreed, it wasn’t very pleasant on your end and you imagined it wasn’t so pretty from the other side either. Then you were bombarded with questions and tests. The two nurses gently moved you up to a sitting position, adjusting the bed so it was at a slant to support you and your neck. Then it was could you talk? No. Can you swallow? Yes. Open your mouth, say ah- you do and your tongue is tamped down as they shine a light down your throat. 

And you get it. You don’t really remember the details but nearly decapitated has been implied several times. You shouldn’t be able to breath on your own, the fact you can swallow as easily as you can after a week on the feeding tube is a miracle. The way the nurses were talking about it, a lot of the slow drag on your body was probably more painkillers for your neck than anything wrong with your body, the liquid diet more of a precaution after the feeding tube than a necessity. You were a miracle, the flowers and cards around the room remind you, blessed by the Gods. 

You were given a notepad and pencil and you were practicing your writing when Dave and Mrs. Pyrope finally came back into the room. Dave immediately settled back into your bed, looking at what you were writing -mostly your name- and leaning against you gently. 

“Mr. Strider, I believe we have a lot of things to talk about before the police have their turn with you.” her smile tugged at the edges of her lips as that feeling tugged at your mind and heart. She laid all the manilla folders next to you on the bed, all your years of work coming to fruition. You almost wanted to cry because somehow you knew, you knew this woman was here to help.

  
  


You were worn when you were finally done talking first to your lawyer, then to the police. Even with the news that Bro was still not caught you managed to sink into a deep sleep when they all finally left; only Dave stayed to hold your hand. 

And the dreams were strange, it felt like an anchor in your chest pulled you forward into flashes with John, lying prone on his lap, your neck on fire. Mrs. Pyrope, her skin grey and horns sharp. Another grey skinned horned… God. This time smiling down at you and saying something about this being something he would want to remember. Two women and a warm wash over your skin. A vote for your life, a vote for freedom. 

You woke up feeling almost as worn out as when you fell asleep. The only perk was what woke you up was Roxy throwing herself onto the bed with gusto.

“Dirk!” you might have thought she was happy or excited as she buried her face into your chest, but her voice gave it away. It was tight and watery with emotion and reflected in Rose’s face where she stood at the door next to Dave.

You pet Roxy’s hair unsteadily, wishing you had your voice to tell her it was alright. It seemed to work well enough as her sobs slowly began to quiet. 

“We were worried about you.” Rose’s voice was steadier, her composure more sure as she made her way in to sit at the end of your bed. “We never knew it was that bad.”

It took a bit of convincing, but you managed to get Roxy to climb up into the bed next to you so you could pull the rolling table with your notepad and pencil back over the bed. Your writing was a little sloppy, not the neat penmanship you used to obsess over, but you managed to get out a mostly legible if wobbly sentence. 

_That was the point._

Roxy smacked your shoulder for that, causing Dave to grimace as he stopped himself from reacting more physically to it. Her face twisting with grief and anger; well maybe not anger, but she looked very upset. You leaned against her, relishing how soft her skin was against yours. This was the second time you ever got to see her, the first time you touched. She was your best friend, you did this to her. 

“I… we… Dirk I would have done _something!_ ” the sobs that had barely settled shook her chest again as she turned and buried her face in your locs. You noticed how her words didn’t slur, she didn’t smell strongly of alcohol. You remember when she started drinking hard at what? Fourteen? Fifteen? You don’t remember a moment when she was free and wasn’t trying to steal something from her mother’s liquor cabinet. But here she was, probably feeling sick, keeping herself on track for Dave. For you. 

“I woulda took money from Mom, I woulda snuck you out of there myself! Why didn’t you say anything! _Why?_ ” you could feel warm tears as she bawled her eyes out, and all you could do was look at Dave and Rose who not only looked upset, but wildly uncomfortable witnessing it. From where you leaned against her shoulder you shakily wrote out your answer. 

_It wouldn’t have worked. I know that now._

“How do you know that Dirk! How!?” And she looked up at you with those big pink eyes, her fingers digging into your shoulders, and you wondered if it really could have been any different. You remembered things in dreams, in snippets and tugs on your heartstrings, and though you could barely see the edges of the bigger pictures she saw nothing. Remembered nothing. You owed her more than ominous implications of things she couldn’t remember, things you only just barely did. You had to shrug her off your shoulders to write. 

_Sometimes when it happened, when it ended, I would make a point to forget about it. To just focus on what would make me happy._

Compartmentalizing it all, only facing it when you had to and putting it away completely in those sweet, rare moments of peace.It was the only thing that kept you sane. Working on your OS with Roxy, listening to Dave rap, talking with John, there were small moments when you could just forget your life wasn’t normal. And sure, it would always come crashing down with a note to go to the rooftop, a trap that you missed, a blinking light of a camera, but you lived for those moments still, made them the beacon to strive for. You wanted to make a world of those moments for Dave to live in. 

_You could do that for me Roxy, make me feel normal. Like there was a life outside all this worth surviving for._

It took a minute to get her to straighten up, look at what you wrote, and by the time she did Rose and Dave had already looked and the former was misty eyes while the later looked thoroughly embarrassed. It was satisfying to see that but when Roxy finally gave in and pulled the paper close to her, seeing that miserable frown turn into something so fond and adoring despite the tears let you know it would all be okay. 

You spent the long quiet morning with the three of them, only interrupted when the nurse’s came in to adjust your pain killers, to have you walk for them and remove more wires and things you no longer needed. It was nice, the more they took away the closer to normal you felt. It was eventful though and when Mrs. Pyrope arrived, you were thoroughly exhausted. She shooed the other’s out ( which was a whole ordeal in itself with lots of exaggerated goodbye kisses) before finding her chair with unsettling speed and settling down in it. 

“There are many things we need to talk about Dirk.” her smile was wide, unsettling, but that feeling that she was just there to help came back with a surprising force and you couldn’t find it in you to be afraid. Not when you already faced death in the face and his name was Bro Strider. “But first, is there anything you need from me?”

And you stopped a moment, trying to get your sleepy mind to play catch up with all the dream-memory-flashback things. You had many questions, the answers that you felt like you needed, but what she might not have wanted to share. And even if your memories weren’t faulty, a figment of a week of restless medicated sleep, what was there to do about it? You were there on Earth, and if your memory was right that’s what you had wanted. You finally decided on a question though, pulling you paper forward and writing as neatly as you could, an improvement now that you were on fewer medications. 

_Does Roxy remember? Or Rose?_

She shook her head, that unsettling smile softening and her shoulders falling. For a moment she looked like a mother and you felt like a child again, her edges there but softened for you. It was a strange feeling, one not connected to any memory. 

“No, Dirk. Two people were pulled from Earth, but no one else has been. No one will remember, save you, and that’s only because of a little quick thinking on Karkat’s part.” 

Karkat, that name sounded familiar, right. It connected to bright red eyes like Dave’s staring down at you, a warmth washing through your veins and that pull at your heart. You nodded slowly, tapping your pen on the tray in front of you. 

_What did you want to talk about?_

And she seemed pleased, like she would praise you if it wouldn’t probably make you remember something you shouldn’t. Because you remember that, don’t remember too much. Something something splintering. 

“Two things.” she held up her hands, one finger raised. “The first being that several Temples have come forward and requested to have their head priests and priestesses speak to you. This would include most prominently the Temple of Life, who would like to have it recorded.”

You paused, sighing heavily. That was… a lot. To be fair your whole life was a lot. After you had to sit and tell it all to the police, every single last thing, it sounded so fake to you. It sounded so exaggerated, like some shitty telenovela where the protagonist manages to come back from an onscreen death for bullshit reasons and it’s all just supposed to be hunky dory. They kiss the love interest and ride off into the sunset. Finale over and out. 

Did you want that trotted out again? For a bunch of pious heads of temple who wouldn’t look at you twice otherwise? Your story, your tragedy could be written down in scripture for hundreds of years to come, were you willing to have that happen? What about Dave? If you did an interview, let them _record_ you, would either of you ever have normal lives again? You were the boy who lived against all odds, the boy the Gods saved. What did that mean for the rest of your life?

_Do you think it’s a good idea?_

Her head tilted and you almost wanted to jump, an instinct from a long gone memory trying to prevent non existent horns from knocking into vases of flowers. Her smile stretches a little humorously, like she could see the twitch of your muscles where you lay on the bed. Wondering how and what she could actually perceive was not a useful vein of inquiry though. 

“I am no Seer by any means,” her voice is low and deliberate, like she's trying to tell you something more under what she was actually saying, “But I believe there would be certain benefits to indulging them.”

You nod slowly, swallowing past that crunchy feeling in your throat. You ceased the persistent pleasing tapping of the pen on the tray to scribble out your next thought. 

_What else did you want to talk about?_

Her grin faltered a bit, her fingers tapping against the head of her cane rhythmically. It was a nice quick movement, her fingers rolling over the polished brass dragon head in a soothing practiced way. You found a beat to tap along with the pen. 

“Dave has been staying here with you for the most part.” her voice was even and somehow you knew you weren’t going to like what she was going to say, “He refuses to be anywhere else. But he actually is under the care of a foster parent.”

A bitter fear rose within you. With everything else going on, your own near death, slippery memories of Godhood, how god damn _tired_ you were, it had almost been easy to forget how it all started. How could you emancipate yourself now? You couldn’t take care of Dave, there would probably be a pretty steep learning curve on trying to figure out how to take care of yourself again after all this. And Bro was still out there; something told you that he wouldn’t be a problem but that fear was there still, a bird in a net beating its wings wildly in time to your cracking heart. 

And it was apparent. The heart monitor stuttered erratically and you wished you could speak to curse at the thing. You shifted uncomfortably in bed and it was only Mrs. Pyropes voice that brought you back to where you needed to be. 

“We could continue to try and emancipate you, I would be willing to help you petition the court for custody of Dave.” there was a but, you could feel it coming, “ But-” There it was, you felt like you were so close to shattering, “-he wants you to come stay with him as well.”

It wasn’t what you were expecting, and it knocked the wind right out of your sails. Who would want a kid so close to aging out? Would you still have to fight for Dave months down the line when both your birthday’s finally came around? You didn’t realize you had stopped tapping the pen until you felt it digging into your leg. 

“He said you could stay as long as you need. Until you were healed up and could move out, or you could stay until Dave was eighteen, or even after that. He wants to help.” her voice was gentle and urging, one hand moving from where it rested on top of her cane to wrap around yours digging the pen into your thigh. You grunted at the unwanted contact, but let her move you. 

Because you didn’t know what to do with this. You didn’t know how to trust in what she was saying, this mysterious person making promises to help. Because Dave? You loved Dave. You needed Dave. Needed to protect Dave. But you didn’t know if you could anymore. Tears stung your eyes as she rubbed the back of your hand gently, the feeling of her long manicured nails trailing along your skin sending shivers down your spine. 

“You don’t have to make any decisions now Dirk, he just wants to meet you tomorrow, is that okay?”

And you nodded, because you had to. If you couldn’t do it, you had to make sure there was someone there for Dave that could. Even if you didn’t go, even if you lost Dave until you could take care of him, take care of yourself, until he was eighteen, you had to think of what was best for him. 

“He will be coming by in the evening, the Priests from the Temples want to come in the morning. I know it’s a lot at once, do you want me to reschedule anything?”

You shook your head slowly, carefully taking your hand from her to signal you were done. She nodded as she sat back like she understood. 

And when she finally bid you farewell, standing and striding to the door with confidence, it finally occurred to you. The door clicked shut, and you were left wondering how she even knew what you had been writing at all. 

You woke up with a clearer mind than you had previously the last several days. The night before you had asked for the nurses to start tapering off the last of the painkillers you were on, the fog around your thoughts and the constant tug of sleep plunging you into strange memories was becoming too much. They had resisted at first, but now that you were awake and on a much lower dose you thought maybe you didn’t need the painkillers at all. Your body throbbed with a dull pain, you could feel where stitches tugged along your sides and chest where you had only seen them before. And your neck? Your neck hardly bothered you at all. Your wounds throbbed and ached and stung but it wasn’t anything you hadn’t dealt with before, and despite the horror that filled the nurse’s face when you told her that, you were still much happier that your thoughts were unmuddled. 

You let the nurse unhook you from the machines in the grey of the early morning and she kept a sharp eye on you as you took hesitant steps towards the tiny bathroom. You didn’t feel weak, it wasn’t that, but you felt so sore after doing nothing but laying in bed being pampered by your family. Muscles that would normally have been set right back to work after a strife ached from the movement, and you were relieved when you finally sat on the chair in the shower. The water was warm, pleasant despite the weak spray. Normally you would want it hotter, almost boiling yourself alive under a high pressure stream, but there was something that felt so indulgent about being able to enjoy a shower again at all. You don’t know how long you sat in there but at some point the nurse knocked, asking if you were okay. It was a little embarrassing, but you slowly cleaned your aching body before slipping a new gown back on and wobbling back out to your bed. 

And on your bed was a jacket. 

“A friend of yours dropped some clothes off for you this morning.”The nurse informed you, letting you shrug into the impossibly soft blue hoodie before she began to plug you back into the monitoring machines, “He said he heard you were going to do interviews, and thought you might want to be in more than a gown and a blanket.”

And if her smile was warm, touched by a friend's consideration, your heart was on fire. 

It wasn’t as if you weren’t thinking of him these last few days. The thought was there between visits from Dave and Rose and Roxy and the nurses and therapy and the heavy drag of drug addled sleep. John, John, John. Where was John? You couldn’t fulfill your rituals, your apartment, a crime scene, your whole life reduced down to evidence in a terrible act, but you kept hoping John would appear. 

Because he had always been around, sometimes simply floating in your peripherals as you helped Dave, sometimes talking quietly at you as you worked. It was strange, you never had someone _care_ what happened to you outside of Dave. But he'd be there, giving you quiet warnings when Bro was coming up the stairs or to stop you if you were too close to hitting a trap you missed. You caught him once by chance, so long ago, and he threw himself into your life like he had nothing left to lose. 

And you he couldn’t always be there, and maybe more than ever before he would be busy. Your memories were stitching themselves together slowly and surely; there was something larger than you happening, you were simply the trigger. And John seemed to have always known, and maybe that was why he had always stuck around. Fear wrapped around your lungs, anxiety choking the air out of you and it was all you could do to bury your face in the hoodie and breathe in _John._

You missed John. 

Mrs. Pyrope’s arrival at the beginning of visiting hours signaled the beginning of your busy morning. You were picking at your breakfast, still a liquid diet, poking at the jello with distaste. It wasn’t even orange. 

“Dirk! Are you ready for your interview?” she sounded like a shark's grin, all tooth and intent. You reached out, squeezing a yes into her palm. That dangerous intent wasn’t aimed at you, it was for you. You had overheard the nurses talking about the priests coming early already, how a mess of religious folk were crowding up the guest waiting area and making things very complicated. You thought they would be as glad as you to have this done and over with. 

“Very good, can we have them come in then?” Another squeeze to her hand, she softened for you just a bit. “If they do or say anything Dirk, you know I will-”

You squeezed her hand gently, a little longer. You knew she wouldn’t let them upset you, that she would throw them out before you were rocking and sobbing and scratching at the lines in your arms. Even though your memories still had holes in it, you knew enough to know she was safe. 

Getting the head priests and priestesses of several prominent churches into the hospital room with cameras and recorders, fitting them among the flowers and cards and gifts that cluttered the area, that was a challenge. One that was easily solvable in your mind, but they seemed content to ignore you as they settled in. You stared at the bowl of orange and blue flowers instead; you would have all of their attention soon enough, what did it matter to you if they struggled.

“I am going to start,” Mrs. Pyrope’s voice was loud and distinct, a contrast to the gentle and grounding hand on your shoulder, “By reminding you all that Dirk can not speak and will be writing out his answers instead. He will only answer what he wants, and what he can. There will be no pushing him, and I will be firm but fair when doling out punishment to those who break these rules.”

Her voice was authoritative, and you wondered if she was drawing from her powers when the group of otherwise prickly and uncomfortable priests agreed amicably. It was weird and almost sent a flutter of panic through you now that you were more awake, there was never an adult to stand up for you. It was a foreign concept even now and despite the fact you appreciated it, your mind and body didn’t seem to be quite in step. You leaned into her hand anyway, gripping the pen and pad of paper tightly in front of you as the first Priestess, the Head of the Church of Life, directed a question at you. 

“Are you a prophet?” there was another question unasked underneath you think, but instead of trying to figure out what it was you shrugged, trying to look anywhere but at the person asking the question, the camera pointed at you. 

“What happened?” Another person asked, you didn’t look at him so you couldn’t place him from the colors on the robes he surely wore. Chewing on your lip, you thought a moment about what you could say. You could describe heaven, you could describe everything you had gone through, but that seemed like too much. Your handwriting was more legible with the taper of the pain medication. 

_My father attempted to kill me. Then I woke up a week later._

The answer didn’t seem to please them exactly, but you think Mrs. Pyrope’s presence dampered any complaints. 

“Why did the Gods spare _you_?” another Life Priest, a slippery thought fluttered in and out of your brain that Jane would approve of their interrogation techniques, what with the situation they had been put in. Short, to the point, the displeasure radiating from those representing other temples spoke to the fact it was probably a bit rude. You didn’t really mind, it just took you a minute to figure out a good answer for them. 

_I prayed to the right God at the right time._

  
  


There was a bit of a murmur through the crowd of people crushed together; it was an open ended answer that may have provided more questions than satisfaction. You didn’t bother looking up anymore, it didn’t matter who was asking the question and all the eyes on you made your skin crawl with that nervous energy. You wanted to rock, you wanted to mutter comforting facts to yourself in the voice you no longer had, you wanted to rip out all the wires and peel off your skin to make it stop. 

“And what _God_ would that have been?” you could hear them stress the gendered word and you suddenly understand; you had all of a sudden cut off the deities from the Church of Life, the ones who had the most time and energy put into this interview. You tapped the pen against the side of the tray nervously, weighing your options. You wished he was here, Mrs. Pyrope was a solid comfort but you wanted the familiar. He had walked with you through hell, its walls thin and its neighbors willing to turn a deaf ear, he had risked so much carrying you through death back to the other side of life. 

_The God of Wind and Storm_

And the murmurs got louder, bickering starting between the Priests and Priestesses as questions and debates pitched higher. The buzzing in your skin grew louder, Mrs. Pyrope squeezed your shoulder gently, checking in with you, but it only made it worse. The tapping you had resumed grew in it’s tempo. 

From the corner of your eye, a bright shock of orange and blue flowers on your bedside drew your attention. They were still so fresh and lively despite the several days of shuffling around they had suffered. Somewhere far away you could hear Mrs. Pyrope calling the small hospital room back to order. You reached out, stroking the delicate petals, soft and silky under your fingers. You wished you could sit and just enjoy it, the texture and the scent, indulge yourself in pleasant sensation among the chaos. As it was, a question drew your eyes up and back to the crowd that made your skin crawl in the first place. 

“The Gods have been quiet for so long, why now? Why at all?” All their eyes reflected back like a lens to you, you knew they would have more to ask but this was it. It hadn’t probably been more than twenty, thirty minutes of questions and long stretches as you tried to find an answer, but you were done. You withdrew your hand from the cut flowers as you thought on all the possible answers to this question, and then finally, _finally_ you slowly wrote out a reply. 

_They didn’t leave on purpose.They didn’t want to go._

There were several quiet gasps as people leaned forward to see what you were writing, whispers traveling from person to person. You didn’t stop though.

_And they’re trying._

_They’re going to come back._

And the whispers exploded into chaos. Your ears were ringing, your skin on fire. You pushed the paper and tray away, looking for your sword, for Dave. Overstimulation crashed into bad memories and you find yourself unarmed, prone on the gravel spread on the roof. Curling into a ball is the only option, ducking your head and trying to protect your neck as there was frantic beeping and crows calling and…

“Hey, hey Dirk it’s okay.” you looked up and the room was empty sans a nurse and the most important person to you in the entire universe. His hands were cold against your arms, your cheeks, and he sounded so tired. He was only fourteen, and here was taking care of you. And he had only been nine, and he had stitched you up. And he had only been six, and you had prayed to a blustering child God in blue to save you, because it was Dave. He was really too young to die. 

The nurse came towards you slowly, moving to fix the wires, bandage the places where you ripped out the needle they had in to connect different lines to. Somewhere along the line John’s jacket had been taken off you; Dave just sat with you and you traced the familiar scar on his cheek with your eyes. 

You had failed him. You tried so hard, and you were so broken. How were you supposed to go out into the world like this? Keep a job? Make money? You couldn’t handle a half hour of questions, how could you act as his guardian? 

His cool hands and the stream of conscious mumbling didn’t let you stew in those anxieties though, and it wasn’t long before you had passed out on your little brother’s shoulder.

You woke up again with the door opening. Dave was curled up with you, wrapped in your arms like a child despite his age, his face buried in John’s jacket that they had allowed you to put back on with the wires. Everything felt soft, warm, the sensations pleasant, the stimulation not only tolerable but welcome. Dave’s warm breath was comforting against your skin, the rise and fall of his chest a familiar rhythm. If your body tensed at whoever came in it was to protect this, it one of those precious, fleeting, moments you wanted to fill Dave’s world with. 

“Dirk.” It was Mrs. Pyrope again, though you could see familiar pink and lavender eyes peek in the doorway behind her. The ache in your neck was dull, but you moved to blink slowly at her in recognition. “Did you still want to meet your potential foster parent?”

There was a jolt of fear that maybe it would be That Lady, Dave’s mom, but that pooling dread reminded you that it couldn’t possibly be you. Not anymore. You moved slowly to sit up, limbs heavy with comfort and sleep, sharp pain from sword wounds and the dull throb of bone deep bruises. Dave stirred, mumbled a small “muh?” as you tried to rouse him without words and nod, resigned, towards Mrs. Pyrope. 

“Alright. Roxy and Rose want to see you both as well, though I told them it will have to be after.” You nod again, offering a crooked, sleepy if nervous smile to where they were standing at the doorway. Roxy waved excitedly despite the uncertainty and worry radiating loudly off her, Rose just blinked slowly at you like you were some sort of idiot. Couldn’t blame her really. “ I will give you and Dave a few moments to wake up and will send him in alright?”

You nod again, leaning back as Dave pops up at the sound of his name so you don’t have him ramming his head into your chin. Time still felt like a smear in your head, it had been what, two? Three days since you woke up? But there was already a comforting rhythm you were falling into. After he was more suitably awake, Dave helped readjust the angle of the bed so you could more easily sit up before retrieving the food that had been left near the door for you while you slept. You were sipping at the broth when there was a quiet knock at the open door.

Dave was unphased when he walked in. It made sense, he had been seeing him daily, had been taken care of him when you didn’t wake up for a week. When you saw him though, you weren’t in the hospital room anymore. 

He was standing, John sobbing against his chest. You could hear his voice, but the words seemed to slide over your consciousness like water through a sieve. His voice was controlled, demanding, and those around him listened when he spoke. When a vote was proposed his eyes were on you, and then it took you farther away and-

He was standing in a circle of men, jovial with a drink in hand. Bro’s hand was heavy on your shoulder as he pulled you around in front of them and you could hear Bro’s voice, his slow drawl in comparison to the other man’s soft, comforting baritone. You think he’s complimenting you, Dave clinging to your side as he waves politely, but the words pull back like the tide erasing any meaning that had been there. He’s speaking to Bro but his eyes are on you and it took you farther away and-

You are sitting in the hospital, Dave rambling at your side. He has that tone that says he thinks somethings wrong, but his words don’t reach you. Not at first anyway. It takes a tangible effort to line up the pictures, to pick up all the pieces to hold them up to see where it all fits together. A warm hand carefully is put on your shoulder and you look up, his eyes on you. 

“Dirk? Are you quite alright?”

“Yo, Mr. E, I know you mean well but he doesn’t really react well to-”

You nod once, slowly. 

Things were going to be okay. 

You had convinced Dave to actually go to Mr. Egbert’s house that night. It couldn’t be doing him any good to be spending so much time in the hospital, and the nurse’s said that you were doing well; you would probably even be released within the next couple days. And you think that’s what convinced him. He stayed while Roxy and Rose visited you, and he left with them. He only gave you an awkward, lingering hug after Roxy and Rose had said their effusive farewells. They would be heading back to New York soon, but they promised they would see you tomorrow one last time. Exhausted from a day full of more people than you ever experienced at once, sleep came easy when the lights were dimmed. 

You almost thought it was a dream. 

Silver moonlight cut across the bed, the curtains fluttering in a cool breeze coming from a previously closed window. A shadow chased the light across the bed, and your eyes followed it up to your God standing at the window. Your heart stuttered a bit in your chest, with how you missed him, with how after so much you had only wanted him, for the somber sadness still found in his glowing eyes. 

_Come for your shadow ,Peter?_

And you could see him shift, the tilt of his head as he took in how you lay so tired, prone on the bed. Even as you were feeling better, stronger by the day, you knew you looked a right mess. Your locs had been cut short before surgery, something you tried hard not to think about, your neck still raw and tender where it was miraculously healed. Even at their best, no one looked pretty in a hospital, and you wished you could impress upon him that it wasn’t as bad as it looked. He probably knew that, but it was all you could do to try and lighten that pained look on his face. 

“Yah,” he finally spoke, his voice low with sadness, “But I can’t get it to stick on.”

And he took to the air, floating over to the hospital bed and alighting on it with crossed legs. He was so close now, you wished you could hold him again. It didn’t feel that long ago that you were both standing on the sidewalk and he cried. Cried because of you. Cried because of you in so many ways and you hadn’t known, couldn’t have known. And you were upset that you had cornered him into that conversation. And you were upset that when you hugged him all you could think of was how good he smelled. 

_I shall sew it on for you, my little man._

And at least that managed to make John crack a sad smile, and he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. 

“You really can just remember almost anything can’t you? What, you read that how long ago now?” and his smile was still sad, but it was also fond, you thought. That wasn’t an expression you were exactly good at reading. You shrugged a bit, trying not to make it obvious that you were maybe trying to burrow yourself down into his jacket that you still were wearing. 

And he probably could tell, given how his shoulders fell, his eyes softening for you. You didn’t hide how you buried your face in his jacket then, embarrassment rising and coloring your ears down to your neck. You were so tired, you were so weak. 

“Dirk, don’t withdraw.” and his voice had that gentleness to it, a comforting coaxing, “ I can’t help crowing, Dirk, when I’m pleased with myself.”

And you didn’t look up, though you were listening eagerly as he called back to the joke, the simple reference that you thought would make him smile. 

“Dirk,” he said, in a voice you don’t think anyone, much less you, would ever be able to resist, “Dirk, one of you is more use than twenty Gods.”

And every inch of you was a man, though you wonder now if there were not so many inches as you peeked up from the jacket. You were seventeen, shouldn’t you be over fanciful crushes? But he smiled, and you felt like melting. But he laughed clear like a bell, and you felt lighter for it. And he placed a hand on your leg, and your skin felt on fire in the best way. 

And you think that the silence between you both would be peaceful, relaxing, comforting if not for that fire. He turned himself so his legs would hang off the bed, surveying the mess of flowers that littered your room. He hummed to himself, or who knew, maybe for you.

“Jane’s so soft.” another laugh, though quieter. “ So many things for her to do and she still finds time to keep your flowers alive.”

_Oh._

“Yah, don’t worry about it though. With how time moves up there, even if she’s going out of her way a little it’s not hurting her any.” he holds one hand out, a flower floating up from one of the arrangements at the far end of your bed. It’s petals were white, one of the more common colors in the arrangements aside from the creams and effusive greenery. He twirled the flower between his fingers casually and you tried to sear the moment in your memory. How he looked under the silver moonlight, how his features were so soft. That fire on your skin seemed to seep in, burning to your core. To your heart. 

“Do you know what this is, Dirk?” the question almost startled you out of your quiet (haha) reverie and you blinked at him. Were you supposed to? It looked maybe like a daisy, except the center was bigger. Like a little flower pinecone almost. You shook your head. 

“It’s an Echinacea, or Coneflower. They come in a lot of colors, but they always choose white or creams when it comes to Janey. I think it’s in poor taste though, sending white flowers to a hospital.” he paused his spinning, turning instead to lay the flower on your lap, “ It used to be used a lot in medicine. A lot of flowers used by the Church of Life were, at one point. The Coneflower used to be used for things like the cold or flu. Or a sore throat.”

And you would have been offended at the joke maybe if it weren’t for his crooked, hopeful smile. Instead you picked up the not-daisy and began twirling it between your fingers much like he did. 

“What about this?” and he reached out towards the end of the bed plucking yet another flower from a different arrangement this time. The stem seemed thicker, more like a branch maybe with tiny white bells nestled in dark greenery. “Do you know what this is?”

And you give him a look, a single eyebrow raised to ask really? Really do you think _I_ know about flowers? And he laughed, and a fond memory flitted through your head where John was doubled over laughing in your skin. _Your face Dirk, your face!_

“It’s hawthorn. They turn into little red berries.” and he laid the thick stem on your lap much like he had the flower before, causing you to pause your twirling and pay more attention to what was being given, “They say it’s good to strengthen your heart.”

You abandon the other flower at your side to run your fingers along the soft leaves, your brain reveling in the sensation of the soft little flowers and buds. Everything still felt so dreamy in a way; he was giving you flowers, teasing you with their meanings. He was there, coaxing fire into your heart, comfort into your veins. 

A slight breeze picked up like he was going to pluck another flower out to continue, but you manage to force yourself forward from the angle you were reclined at to put an unsteady hand on John’s. He looked at you curiously, and leaning back you plucked one of the orange flowers from the bowl you had insisted stay by your bedside. You offer it to him, sleep still heavy in your movements. 

“Oh.” and he took the flower carefully, delicately. “You want to know about this?”

You nod, settling yourself back against the bed once more. It was just a feeling that these were left by John. Who else would leave blue and orange flowers? But the question was why? What did this mean? You never figured John to be a sentimental type, but it had become increasingly clear that there was a lot you didn’t know about him. Or, at least, a lot you didn’t remember. 

“ It’s a Marigold. Or Calendula.” a small, sad smile as he twirled it between his fingers, much like the first flower, “ It has a lot of medicinal purposes, and has been used all over the world because of that. It’s thought to be really good for the skin, cuts, scrapes, bruises, among a lot of other things.”

And when he stopped twirling it between his fingers you thought he might give it to you like he had with all the other flowers. Instead, he took the stem between his fingers, pinching it short before he tucked the bright orange flower behind his ear. It looked stunning next to his bright blue eyes. 

“It symbolises happiness, joy, grace.” he blinks at you and for a moment you thought maybe you had got it wrong. Certainly those weren’t the words anyone would use to describe you, even if the bit about healing cuts was a bit tongue in cheek, but he continued. “Calendula comes from the Latin word “calendae,” because it will bloom for you all year round.”

And there was this searching, imploring look on his face, seeming to ask if you understood. He was telling you something, but what, you were unsure. There was an inkling, an idea that lived hopeful inside of you but, no. Even as you let yourself soak in his doting attention you couldn’t bring yourself to believe it. Instead you reached again, plucking the other flower out of the arrangement at your bedside and offering it to him once more. 

“The anemone.” he took it without question this time, his actions deliberate, his smile still bittersweet, “Also known as the windflower.”

It was his flower, you understood that when you saw the bowl initially, and the name only confirmed it. 

“It’s had lots of meanings, fragility, sincerity, death.” he rests his hands on his lap, the flower held carefully like it could just blow away with one wrong move. Maybe it could, you had seen him so in bursts of memory in your sleep. He had been set to bring down the heavens, yet here with you… “ The blue windflower specifically means protection from evil.”

Protection from evil, happiness and joy. It felt like a coded message meant just for you, yet you could hardly believe it, hardly breathe. 

“You understand right? I just wanted to protect what makes me happy.” and he moved on the bed, shuffling closer to you. Leaning over you, his hand reached to gently tuck the flower behind your ear and he was so close. Warmth radiated off him, his hand lingering along your jawline. “You know you make me happy right?”

Your chest felt tight, your heart squeezing like it would burst into a million pieces as he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In addition to my normal notes, I'd like to say a couple things:  
> A: I'm sorry for not updating last week! Life, y'know?  
> B: For anyone who has been following along as the chapters are updating, you should go back and check some of the older chapters! My BB Artist [vanzgogh_](https://www.instagram.com/vanzgogh_/)had some commissions open to help with their moving situation, and I snapped up as many slots as I could to have them illustrate more of the chapters! I am _pretty_ sure they still have slots open, so you want to support a budding independent artist this season, I would recommend hitting them up!
> 
> Thank you all for coming along on this ride with me. There is one more chapter to go, which is more of an epilogue of sorts, and then I will have finished my first piece ever for a Big Bang! Thank you for those following along and commenting, I _do_ read every comment and cherish them, but this fic in particular I just get so very overwhelmed with the support and never know what to say.  
> Hopefully I will see the next week with the last chapter of MGFMPS!  
> -Cory

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you [vanzgogh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanzgogh) for being an exceptional and amazing artist for this fic! I wouldn't have been able to do this without your support. They are also [vanzgogh_](https://www.instagram.com/vanzgogh_/) on insta!
> 
> As always, you can find me at [uncannycory](https://uncannycory.tumblr.com/) on tumblr  
> Comments and criticism always welcome


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